


Never Better

by ElderberryWine



Series: Shire Morns [31]
Category: Lord of the Rings - Fandom
Genre: Multi, Part of the Shire Morns series.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-18
Updated: 2010-02-20
Packaged: 2017-10-07 09:05:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 34,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElderberryWine/pseuds/ElderberryWine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merry's coming of age, and matters manage to get very much worse before better, as often happens at Brandy Hall.  Written for the <i>Waymeet</i> "The Ties That Bind" challenge, which was to center on the family.  The question, of course, is whose?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Esme Brandybuck stared out of the round glazed window with a distracted impatience. Snowing still, and nearly spring. So inconvenient, since the servants were forever tracking slush through the smial with their clumsy feet, no matter how many times they were instructed to wipe first. Of course, they would also be the ones to clean up the mess, but with the quantity of guests that was shortly expected, she had no time to worry about that detail on top of so many others. Saradoc, needless to say, should have taken them severely to task years ago for their shiftlessness, but he had not, and she was left to deal with the lazy and obstinate lot. Her son's assistance in the matter, not surprisingly, was beyond consideration. Her husband had had far more influence on his upbringing than she had anticipated, and even though Meriadoc was to come of age in a few days, he was still not Master of Buckland caliber.

That was something Saradoc, for all his faults, was. Reluctantly, she watched with a grudging admiration as he stood in the impressive graveled yard in front of Brandy Hall's great doors, greeting some impoverished distant relations of his as they rode through the gates in a ramshackle carriage pulled by what could only be a pair of ancient plow ponies. It was the more reduced ones who always arrived days ahead, she reflected somewhat bitterly, eager to live off of the largesse of the Master of Buckland for as many days as possible on such occasions, although one would never know that from the gracious and attentive greeting they were getting from Saradoc. Well, it couldn't be helped. The heir's coming of age was, without a doubt, a momentous occasion, and not a time for any sort of frugality.

The old tunnel, she coolly classified them. Certainly it was as commodious as any lodging to which they were accustomed, and she planned on reserving the rooms in the newer tunnel for those guests who were, albeit perhaps not family, rather more illustrious. Her brother's family however, due to arrive at any time, had their customary suite of rooms in the heart of Brandy Hall's vast warren for, as Paladin firmly and frequently stated, it just was not natural that any hobbit should ever sleep in a room with a window. Fortunately, she considered with a slight taste of bitterness, their erstwhile cousin Frodo Baggins, as well as his fancy lad, would be in the small rooftop chamber to which she had assigned him as a young stripling. If it also wasn't natural for a hobbit to be sleeping so high off the ground, she had never heard such an objection from that room's inhabitant when younger. Certainly, she had no intention of allowing him to annoy respectable folk with his peculiar manners, and his flaunting of his improper relationship, any more than could be helped about the more luxurious quarters of the sprawling smial.

And, in particular, she wished to ensure that he kept his distance from Odo and Rosamunda Bolger. After a good deal of levelheaded calculation, she had decided upon their daughter, Estella, as the appropriate future Mistress of Brandy Hall. The family, needless to say, could not be of better quality, since Rosamunda was a Took, and a somewhat distant cousin of hers, and the Bolgers, while not particularly wealthy, were nevertheless quite comfortably well off. She had confidence that the Bolgers would be gratified to be offered this liaison for their daughter, since her looks were somewhat against her, having the same tall and exceedingly thin build as her brother, and also because of the disgrace that her brother had brought to the family with his distasteful relationship with that overly mature Baggins female in Hobbiton. There really was something about a Baggins, she couldn't noting with a grim amusement, that found it impossible to be reputable. But a gentlehobbit was allowed his youthful follies, and she had graciously consented to overlook that particular matter, at least as long as it was an affair of the past.

No hurry, at any rate, she mentally set the matter to the side, since Merry showed no sign as of yet of being ready to settle into domesticity. A word with Mistress Bolger during her family's stay, however, might not go amiss.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

Rosamunda Bolger, her arms crossed over her chest, stared up at her lanky son with a wryly amused expression of dismay. "A week at Brandy Hall?" she shook her head, her eyebrow raised. "I hope you realize that is hardly a congenial prospect, my dear Freddy."

Fredeger ignored the appellation, one that he only accepted from his mother, and gave her an apologetic hug. "I know, my dear, it is a perfectly ghastly thought. I'm all too aware of that. But Merry isn't a bad sort at all, and the lad has finally managed to come of age. So we really must all turn out, I'm afraid. They did show up a couple of years' back for my affair, you know."

"Difficult to forget that occasion," his mother sighed, reaching up to fondly pat his cheek, "but I hope you realize she does have certain intentions regarding your sister." She sat down in her favorite chair, in the inviting parlor of Budgeford Smial, and poured herself a cup of tea.

"For Stella?" Fredeger, or Fatty, as he was more universally known, gave a chuckle that quite nearly bordered on condescending. "Well, she may, but I can most certainly assure you that Merry has not. Nothing against Stella, you understand, but Merry is quite spoken for, I believe, and Stella is in rather a different category."

"Oh, of course, that business with the Took lad," his mother airily dismissed Fatty's objection, settling back more comfortably and raising her teacup in response. "Gentry have frequently had a tendency toward that sort of thing in their youth, you know, but then there's always the matter of an heir. Straightens them up eventually, that does. Of course you had to go off into an entirely different direction, my boy, but then you were always quite a unique fauntling. And how is dear Lobelia, now to mention it? You haven't brought her up in ages. Well, no matter, you may as well let your sister know what she will be in for. A bit of a warning may well be useful."

"A warning? For me? Whatever for?" Stella, and there really was no other word for it, bounded abruptly into the room. "My stars, Fatty, did you totally make away with all the biscuits? I know there were at least a dozen of them on that plate when it left the kitchen."

"Then that hardly seems like enough, does it?" retorted her brother with a playful tweak of a sandy curl. "You could have brought some cake with you, or at the very least a scone or two."

"I took care of the cake in the kitchen," Stella gave him a satisfied smirk, "so I suppose we are even. But out with it now, what is this warning business about?"

"The Brandybucks, my dear," her mother mildly interposed at this point, setting her cup on the nearby table and glancing wistfully at the empty plate. "Or more precisely, Mistress Brandybuck. You do know she has designs on you, my pretty one. It certainly is difficult to sample Cook's skills with the both of you about," she added, somewhat ruefully.

"Oh, I'm sorry, mother, I'll you fetch you the scones in an instant," Stella hastily made amends. "But what's this, now? Surely you don't mean for Merry?"

"None other," Fatty responded with a grin. "Mistress of Brandy Hall. Sounds rather fine, I should say."

"Pah," Stella answered back succinctly. "He's a decent enough sort, but certainly doesn't seem to be much in the way of marriageable material at the moment. Surely his mother has noticed that. And I am hardly the type of lass to sweep him off his toes, and cause him to see the blind folly of his ways."

Both her mother and brother had to concede, however silently, the truth of that statement. Estella Bolger, some might say, was a wild and willful lass; fond of the outdoors and tramping through the countryside on her own, passionate about riding her pony (rare indeed with the Shire lasses) and an absolute authority when it came to playing cards. Since none of these skills had much application when it came to running a household, most of the mothers of young male gentlehobbits had looked elsewhere for a prospect. Clearly, when it came to luring a young lad into a feminine ensnarement, she was unmistakably at a loss.

"Well, not ours to wonder why," her brother consoled her, not unkindly, "but there it is. You might want to bag your best frock, just in case of a momentous announcement of some sort while we are there."

"Pah and rubbish," was the spirited clarification. "Merry is adequate enough, as I said, but that mother of his is entirely another thing altogether. However, she does set a decent table, and along that line, I may as well go search for the scones, as the both of you scheme together. Kindly leave me out of it, though, for I'll have none of it."

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

Frodo and Sam stood together on the snowy doorstep of Bag End, a couple of cases set to the side, waiting for the pony and cart that Frodo had hired to show up. Frodo gave a quick sympathetic glance toward Sam, who was trying his best not to show a long face, but not entirely succeeding. "I know, my dear, it would have been a wonderful tramp, snow and all, but it really wouldn't do not to arrive in time. Just too unpredictable at this time of the year."

"We might o'gotten lost along the way," Sam muttered, with an undisguised yearning for that lost possibility.

"Not the worst of fates," Frodo chuckled, "but you know we never would have heard the end of it from Merry. At least," he continued, glancing down the Row to where the pony was coming into view, his shaggy hoofs stamping the snow down firmly into the road and his breath visible in the frosty air in the form of great steamy puffs, "there ought to be quite a crowd there, and we should be able to avoid anyone we wish to for most of the visit. Pippin is probably already there, it goes without saying, but I hear Fatty and Folco are to be at Brandy Hall as well."

"Ah, well, that's a fine bit of news," Sam visibly brightened up at that thought. Catching hold of the edge of the cart, as it pulled up along side of them, he easily swung the cases into it as he greeted the driver with a nod and tip of his rough woolen cap. "Thank'ee much for bringin' it out this way, Daddy Goodfoot," he greeted the gnarled elderly hobbit respectfully, as he assisted him down from the driver's seat to the back of the cart. "An' you're sure then you'd not be wantin' a lift back to Hobbiton?"

"Nay, nay, lad," Goodfoot shook his head with a grin. "Your dad owes me a visit and a pipe, he does, an' I'll be takin' him up on his offer of same. You and Mr. Frodo'd best be off, for my bones tell me there's summat brewin' in the wind, and more snow to come."

"I suspect you are entirely correct," Frodo commented, with a keen eye to the east. "Perhaps I'll pop back in for a few more rugs to wrap around us." He quickly did so, and after dropping the sociable Goodfoot off at the startled Gaffer's door, they were off, Frodo at the reins, and Sam tucking a thick woolen rug about the both of them. The pony was stolid, but by no means reluctant, and the carrot Sam had slipped him had gone a long way toward establishing good will, so Frodo was able to let the reins rest lightly in his lap, and allow his right hand to find one of Sam's under the blanket.

"So, do you think that visit will go well?" he turned to Sam with a smile.

"Only through the first mug," Sam chuckled. "An'then there'll be summat they won't be agreein' to, and then it'll go from there as it allus does w'those two. And I'd not be surprised if he ain't there for awhile, too. That's a right dark cloud movin' our way."

"Hmm," Frodo considered it as the pony plodded along the snowy road. "But it doesn't seem to be moving that fast. With any luck, we can make it to the Toad and Whistle before the snow begins."

"Well, with any real luck, we'd have to stay there," Sam muttered, and was rewarded by a laugh from Frodo.

"Couldn't agree with you more, dearest, but we do have to remember Merry. His feast day would be entirely too bleak without us."

"Pippin'd distract him," was the confident response. "He'd not be missin' us that much, I'd be thinkin'."

"You very well may have a point, but Aunt Esme would surely notice if we were not there to annoy her, and she would take great delight in pointing our absence out to Merry, you can be sure of that. We cannot possibly dream of disappointing her. You know how she relishes our visits so."

"Aye, there is that compensation," Sam grinned. "We do seem to be a thistle under her saddle, or mayhap elsewhere." He finished off his comment with an unexpected yawn, and Frodo gave him a stern glance.

"And how early were you up, anyway, Sam?" he raised an eyebrow. "Swept off the lane to Bagshot Row, that I know, early this morning, but anyone else's?"

"Ah, well, the Widow'd need a bit of a hand," Sam tried unsuccessfully to stifle another yawn, "and then you know how'd busy Tom'd be what w'another wee one on the way and he an' Mari w'five already."

"That's what I thought," Frodo declared firmly, halting the cart. "To the back with you, Sam Gamgee, and take yourself a nap with not another word on it. I traveled this way before you were out of nappies, my dear, and can find my way back just as well on my own."

Sam did not dispute Frodo's judgment, for it had been a late night last night besides, and a bit of rest really did seem a delicious thought. So before long, the pony was on his way again, and Sam was buried deep under the wraps in the back of the cart and sound asleep.

Frodo could not help stealing an occasional glance back, along with a tender smile. Sam's face was peaceful in sleep, with the occasional drifting snowflake caught in his tangled tawny curls, and the golden lashes soft against the rosy cheeks, reddened by the frosty air. He was entirely the most beautiful creature, Frodo decided yet once again, and there really were no words for how incredibly fortunate he had been to find this love. Let Esme hiss and scratch, he lifted his chin proudly as he turned back with his attention on the road, for he could truly care less.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

Folco meekly held his hands up and outstretched as Iris deftly wove the creamy thick spun yarn in and out around them. The fire crackled merrily in the fireplace, and candles brightly lit the comfortable sitting room, as Iris hummed a faint tune to herself and apparently gave the task her complete attention.

"You know," Folco suddenly mentioned, "if you were to rig up a couple of spindles set in a base of some sort, you could do this anytime you wish without another's assistance."

"And why would I wish to do that, my dear?" Iris lowered her head but lifted her eyes, giving him a stern glance that was at least mostly in play.

"Oh, well, yes," Folco stammered a bit with a shy smile. "This method is very nice too, of course."

"Exactly," Iris rewarded him with a sweet but triumphant smile. "After all, we won't have much time for just the two of us when we are at Brandy Hall. Oh, Folco!" she suddenly dropped the yarn down, her excitement at the upcoming visit obvious in her sparkling dark brown eyes. "I just can't believe you managed to have Pansy and me invited along with you! Brandy Hall, my dear! To think!"

"Well, it is a fine place, I suppose," Folco blinked a bit, but gave Iris a fond smile. "A bit too much fuss, if you ask me, but adequate enough in its way."

"Oh, adequate, is it?" Iris laughed affectionately at that. "From what I've heard of her, Mistress Brandybuck would be ever so pleased to hear you say that. But perhaps Pansy will find a beau there, and Folco, my dearest, that really can't happen any time too soon. I've never understood Mother's silly rule about elder daughters needing to marry first, but there it is."

Folco returned her smile, and lifting one of her hands up, gave it a lingering kiss. "First thing we do, my love, is find Fatty and leave the matter of Pansy up to him. If ever there was a hobbit who could help us, it would be him. But I hear your mother considerately coughing from behind the door, my love, so I suppose it would be time for me to be leaving for tonight. Rest assured, though, I will have the carriage ready to pick you and Pansy up tomorrow directly after first breakfast. It will all work out, my dear, you see if it won't. Fatty really is the best of fellows, I promise you."

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

Bramble Grubb looked about the Great Hall of the Brandybucks, as she and Rufus entered, in undisguised amazement. "'Tis a vision, Mistress Esme, indeed it is! Just like all the tales I've ever heard of it."

Esme, who had turned to a housemaid to instruct her as to where to house Saradoc's erstwhile relations, politely nodded and gave the rustic hobbits a gracious smile. "Thank you," she cordially murmured, turning to leave, when the sudden shocked gasp caused her to spin quickly back around again. But it was only the visitor, who had just caught sight on the grand stairway to the upper levels of Brandy Hall.

"Dearie me, Father," she exclaimed to her almost equally dumbfounded husband, and no matter that their only child had died many years back as a fauntling, but they still referred to each other on these terms, " 'tis almost like a great tree indoors. How a body could climb that and not fall to the ground, why, I'd never know."

Esme, who was finding it difficult to maintain a courteous demeanor in the face of this barely credible display of ignorance, abruptly nodded to the servant lass, who was patiently awaiting her inclination. "Child, show the Master's guests to their quarters," she exclaimed, forgetting the servant lass's name in her unconscious eagerness to disassociate herself with them. "The old tunnel; one of the back rooms should do." Turning back to her guests, she added quickly, "Dinner an hour after sunset, main hall. She can give you directions," and giving the briefest of nods, she was gone.

"My stars!" Bramble exclaimed, rather surprised, blinking in a bit of confusion at the patient hobbit who had been assigned to them. "Is she always in this much of a bustle, then?"

Holly couldn't help a bit of a grin at that characterization. "Indeed, that she is," she chuckled, with a quick curtsy. "But let me show you to your room then. I imagine you must be fair worn out after your trip in this fearsome weather."

"Aye, that we are, and no mistake," Rufus spoke up for the first time, with rather of a rumble. "No, my dear, don't you even think of it," he added, as she tried to pick up their baggage. "A little lass like yourself shouldna have to tote this lot. I'll handle it, no problem. You just lead us on then, and I certainly hope it ain't up those, what did she call them, stairs?"

"Nay," Holly giggled as she started down the maze of hallways, candle in hand. "Naught but Mr. Frodo's bedroom up there. Storage mostly, otherwise. But that stairway looks grand, don't it? Ain't nothing in the Shire like, or leastways so I've been told."

"Well, count our blessings for that," Bramble fanned herself a bit, and then picked up one or two items herself, and followed her husband and the hobbit lass. "Mighty fine t'look at, without a doubt, but it'd not be seeming home-like, if you'd understand. But then, I'm but an ignorant county hobbit, so there's much in this world I'd not know. Mr. Grubb, now he'd be Master Brandybuck's third cousin, at least on his mother's side, so that's how we'd end up here, my dear," she explained confidentially, having caught up with Holly and drawing a companionable arm through hers. "Master Brandybuck, now, he'd stop by our smial, from time to time when he'd be on Brandy Hall business, and a finer gentlehobbit there never was. So when he invited us to his son's coming of age, we couldn't have been more pleased. But this Mistress Brandybuck, she'd be a different sort, then, wouldn't she? And the son, young Master Meriadoc, what manner of hobbit is he, now, lass?"

"Oh, he'd be a fine decent lad," confided Holly, feeling quite at home with the Grubbs, and giving in to a bit of secret admiration on her part. The tunnels that they passed through were getting narrower, and progressively less grand, but neither of the visitors were noticing. "Handsome and tall, he is, and more like his father than not. But a bit of a temper, from time to time, and that he'd be getting from his mother, without a doubt. But as they say in the Hall, no Master yet. 'Twill take some doing to reach Master Saradoc, and no-one can deny that. But you can judge for yourself at dinner tonight, for he's sure to be there."

She stopped at that point, in front of a plain round wooden door, much like many others they had already passed. "But here's your room, and let me make sure the candles are properly lit for you." With a flourish, she opened the door, and shortly there was light within.

Master Grubb and his wife entered and gasped with pleasure. The room was simple indeed, but undeniably cozy and welcoming. There was a small fireplace, with a chimney that snaked its way somewhere to the surface, and Holly quickly and deftly had a small fire started for them. The bed was comfortable, with a fine straw mattress, and the best of woolen blankets. No feather beds and fine comforters for these rooms, but since the Grubbs knew nothing of these items, they did not feel the lack in the least. A commodious wardrobe, a small table and a pair of comfortable chairs completed the furniture, and a couple of small braided rag rugs, one by the bed and one in front of the chairs, kept the chill of the bare earthen floor from their feet. There was a small glass on the table with a handful of modest pansies, for the weather would not admit to much else, and the Grubbs were entranced. Their estimation of Mistress Brandybuck immediately rose ten-fold, for this was the most delightful room they could have ever imagined.

Holly gave them directions to the dining hall, and wound the small clock for them, explaining how to determine the appropriate hour, and left them to luxuriate in the glories of Brandy Hall.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

"Oh, love, that is tight enough, to be sure," Pearl puffed, as Daisy determinedly drew the laces of the fine bodice from behind, in the privacy of her snugly luxurious room in the Great Smials. "How I'm expected to breathe in this, I'd never know. Surely my mother has given up showing me off like a fine bantam hen by now, I would think."

"Ah, but you forget," Daisy chuckled, and turned her around with a quick arm about the waist, the better to admire her efforts. The candlelight flickered on freckled pale skin as Pearl twisted her head around to scrutinize the full effect of the light silver frock. "There will be fine lasses a'plenty there, and it should ne'er be said that Pearl Took herself cannot keep with the best of them."

"Oh, pooh," Pearl waved her hand depreciatingly, but did not deny herself the pleasure of Daisy Gamgee's frank admiration. "They'll all be there for Merry, no doubt about it, the great heir of Buckland come of age. Of course, neither my sisters or I will have any of it, for I would not want to be facing dear Pip, young as he is, otherwise. No matter, it's all nonsense, for there's no-one in all the world I want other than you, Daisy my dearest, and I really believe Mother has finally accepted that fact."

Daisy's smile lit up her face, and it was quite impossible for Pearl not to throw her arms about her and nuzzle her neck slightly for that. "Fortunately, it should be a very full house indeed," she whispered in Daisy's ear with a grin, "and if a gentlehobbit should wish to have her lady's maid and personal healer quite close at hand, well, that will not cause much of a fuss, I should think."

"Not in the least," Daisy murmured, slipping her own arms about that finely clothed waist. "And as long as I am with you, my beautiful Pearl, I care not about the rest of it. The months without you are far too long; I mean to enjoy every moment we have."

"Someday, Daisy, my own love," Pearl drew back and raised a hand to her brow, gently smoothing back the reddish locks and giving her a suddenly serious look. "Someday, I swear to you. There won't be any months without me, not any more." Pearl's mouth was at once on hers, insistent and demanding, and Daisy let herself fall back onto Pearl's bed, her heart filled once more with delight.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

Sam gave the chilly, slightly musty room an approving glance. The proprietor had started a fire, not too long before, but it was obvious that the room at the end of the hall deep in the hill, though not often used, was kept tidy and clean. This time of the year, half way between Yule and spring planting, was not one in which travel was common, and so the probability of having to share the two bed room was, thankfully, quite remote. He dropped their bags at the foot of the better bed, and picking up the worn woolen blanket hanging on a hook near the hearth, kept there expressly for this purpose, used it to retrieve the brick that had been warming near the embers, and wrapping it up tightly, pushed it under the covers. It wouldn't take that long to warm the bed, with two bodies in it, but it didn't hurt to have the brick give them a bit of a head start.

It wasn't long before he heard rapid footsteps coming down the hall and he smiled to himself. Frodo had politely stayed in the common room and chatted with the local populace as long as was expected, but Sam knew that the details of the East Farthing business were of breathtakingly little importance to the Master of Bag End (as he was more commonly known in these parts). This was a fact Frodo immediately confirmed as he entered the room and quickly closed the stout door firmly behind him. It was only the work of a moment before he had his arms around a willing Sam and his mouth firmly planted on his.

"Ah," Frodo sighed as he at last released Sam's gratifying lips and rested his forehead against Sam's with a smile. "I don't know why it's so very different, but when I see you across a table in a public place, with the firelight in your hair and a bit of foam on your lip, I find that it's so very nearly impossible to keep myself from leaning over and kissing it off. I would do that at home and never think twice, but when I can't, oh, Sam, how that goads and teases me so!"

"Just a bit of patience, m'dear," Sam murmured, happily tightening his embrace of Frodo, "and you can fancy it is still there. Show me, dearie, what was it again that you wished to do?"

Frodo did not wait, then, to eagerly demonstrate to him, to their mutual satisfaction. But the room was still chilly, and the fire already drawing low, and they must be on the road early again the next morning. So the bed would have to be taken as it was, still cold and slightly clammy, and in no time at all, they were huddled together under the coarse cloth and woolen blankets, still shivering slightly, and with their shirts still on. The possibility of additional travelers, after all, could not be entirely ruled out, and it was best to maintain the aura of respectability, if suddenly needed. The bed was narrower than that of Bag End's master bedroom, and there was a certain amount of readjusting required of both of them. But before the embers had entirely burnt away, Frodo was slightly on his side, his back toward the wall and away from drafts, and Sam was nestled quite close to him, his head tucked into its favorite resting place in the crook of Frodo's neck, and one of Frodo's arms draped over him.

"Brandy Hall tomorrow," Sam whispered, giving Frodo a lingering kiss at the corner of his jaw, "and your aunt to face once more. Just remember, me dear, I love you more than anything, and we'll be back to Bag End soon enough, no matter what."

"I know, dearest," Frodo murmured with a smile, his eyes dark in the guttering light as he held Sam's gaze. "Don't you fret on my account, love. She can be as nasty as she likes, it honestly hardly matters to me any more. You are my home and my family, Sam dear, and I need no-one and nothing else." He found Sam's mouth once again and kissed him tenderly. "Oh, Sam," he sighed, as they broke reluctantly apart, and Sam's settled into his embrace. "How very fortunate we are."

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

Bracegirdle surveyed his reflection in the looking glass prominently displayed near the entry hall of his extravagantly appointed smial. Entirely satisfactory, he concluded, rather smugly. Undeniably the form of a well-to-do gentlehobbit, with the rather stout figure that accompanied that state, but tall and commanding, nonetheless. Unquestionably the proper figure to lend an air of sanction to the coming of age of the heir of Brandy Hall. It was the least he could do for the Hall's gracious Mistress, the charmingly regal Esme Brandybuck. If there ever was a lady, he considered briefly, but no. It was better to admire from afar.

"Tom!" he raised his voice sharply, turning toward the hall where a young hobbit lad hurried toward him, heavily burdened with packs and parcels. "Really, now, you dull creature, I have no time to waste on your incompetence. Add those things to the carriage at once, and we must be off. What a fool you are, to be sure."

Tom said nothing, bowing humbly, but an observant eye would have noticed him shrink against the side of the carriage as Bracegirdle approached the door that was meekly held open for him. The gentlehobbit stopped as he was about to enter, however, and gave the very young hobbit a cool appraising look. "No," he murmured thoughtfully, very nearly to himself, "I can't abide the jouncing and rattling. There will be time, later, upon our arrival. Join the driver on the upper seat, then, boy, and don't annoy me with your sorry demeanor."

The slender young tween began to clamber up beside the driver, with undisguised relief, when Bracegirdle grabbed his arm, and hissed vehemently in his face. "A little more enthusiasm for your tasks would be advisable, lad. Do not forget what fate may yet befall your family if I am displeased with you. I expect your attentions whenever I desire them, and a little more zeal in your performance would be prudent indeed. Now out of my sight, and not a word to the driver about private matters. And inform him I expect us to arrive at Brandy Hall by nightfall, or he'll find that he will have gone all this way for naught."

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

"If I have to listen to Esme's condescending commiseration on the subject of our daughters one more time, my dear, I shall positively throw a fit," Eglantine Took counseled her husband sternly, as they rode a magnificent pair of ponies, side by side, on the snowy road to Buckland.

Palantin glanced at his normally mild-mannered wife with a fond smile and an undisguised twinkle in his eye. "You really should, you know," he remarked tranquilly. "Would do her a world of good. Esme needs to be put in her place from time to time, and Saradoc seems to have given up on that, as of late."

"Hmph," the Mistress of the Great Smials tried her very best to remain severe, but her husband's enjoyment at that unlikely prospect was contagious. "You may well laugh, Pal my dearest, but I swear that if she refers to Pearl once more as 'your poor unfortunate daughter', I really can't answer for myself."

Palantin chuckled at that possibility. "If she refers to Pearl in that manner within our dear daughter's hearing, you won't have to do a thing, I suspect. That delightful child, I have noticed, is quite capable of defending herself. Indeed, so capable, that I'm afraid we Tooks might find ourselves tossed out on our ears, even on such a grand occasion."

"Why, yes, Esme might do just that," Lana brightened up at the notion. "But I believe there is another issue that is concerning her far more than our daughters," she added, suddenly serious again, drawing closer to Palantin on her grey dappled pony. "It's this business with Pip, my dear. I know she tolerated his closeness to Merry as long as Merry was underage, but now that has changed. She will be looking to find a well-connected wife for him, and having an obviously infatuated lad about will not help matters."

"And what will Merry have to say about that?" Palantin cocked an eyebrow at his wife's surmise. "You are quite aware that the infatuation runs in both directions, my love. She may not find her son as biddable as she would like."

Lana sighed, and gave a worried frown. "No doubt you are quite right, but I would not be surprised if Saradoc does not come down on her side of the question, for a change. For Brandy Hall to leave Brandybuck hands is unthinkable, but without a wife, that is exactly what would happen."

Palantin stoked his pony's dark mane thoughtfully and said nothing for awhile. "You do have a point, my dear," he said gravely, at last, "and if Pip had been the older of the two, it would have been us facing that dilemma first instead of Esme and Saradoc. But I am telling you, as I would tell Esme, that the feelings between the two of them run very deep, and are not to be denied by any of the rest of us. Any wife that either should take would do well to make her peace with that fact, and never try to break that bond, for that will simply never happen."

He halted the pony then, and glanced behind them. The carriage containing their younger two daughters, as well as a few servants and a good deal of their baggage, was making its way slowly along the freshly snow-drifted road, and had fallen behind. Pearl, on her pony, was nowhere to be seen, but that was not surprising. She had taught Daisy Gamgee to ride, on Daisy's stay with them last summer, but Daisy was still a novice, and not quite able to keep up with the Tooks, who were, without exception, born to the saddle. Pearl had assured her parents that they would not fall too far behind, but that she and Daisy were going to be traveling at a more leisurely pace.

Palantin waited patiently for the rest of his company, but as they drew near, he gave his wife a wry side glance. "Sometimes I think old Bilbo had entirely the right idea," he muttered. "Love whom you will, and when you are ready, choose some likely lad for your heir. Certainly worked out well for him, and Frodo too, for that matter. All this fuss about marriage and bloodlines and property is rubbish. No matter, I was fortunate enough to find you, my dear, and never had to bother my mother at all about such nonsense. Of course, it never hurt that you were a Banks, and not at all Tookish. As a matter of fact, I rather think that helped, as far as Mother was concerned."

Eglantine beamed at him as she nudged her pony close to his and drew a gloved hand through his arm. "Aren't you a silly dear," she murmured affectionately, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. "The best that we can hope for is that our children are happy, in the end, isn't it? Ah, well, I imagine all this will all sort itself out somehow."

 

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Pippin Took gave a quick stretch, and then raised himself on his elbow, next to Merry. "I don't think I want you to grow up, Merry," he murmured, the white light that flooded the room causing his eyes to glint more green than usual. He reached out and softly pushed back a dark blonde curl from Merry's forehead as Merry lay curled under the rough blanket, smiling tenderly up at him.

"Can't be helped, Pip," he responded slowly, still smiling. "I'd rather not, of course, but I'm afraid there's no other option. It happens to the best of us. Well, maybe not to you. I can never imagine you all grown up and stodgy, my dear. That would be entirely impossible."

"I could say the same," Pippin mentioned mildly, but his hold on Merry's bare shoulder was fierce, and when he swooped down to meet Merry's lips with his, there was an intensity in his kiss that was not in his words.

"Don't worry, my darling," Merry breathed, as he and Pippin finally caught their breath, Pip in his arms once more. "I don't plan on giving you up any time soon, no matter what others may think. As long as you love me, Pip, and I love you, well, there is nothing else we need to fear."

One hand rose, to gently and soothingly stroke the side of Pippin's cheek, as the other held the younger hobbit close to him, but his gaze traveled unseeingly to the bare glass of the round window. Their haven was a small unused storeroom, high on the upper floors of Brandy Hall, and not far from Frodo's old room. Merry had furnished it, over time, with a mattress, blankets, and a feather comforter, and the fireplace still worked properly, as well. It was here they retreated when they had the need for solitude and comfort, secure in the knowledge that none of the inhabitants of Brandy Hall would ever search them out here.

With a sigh, he gave Pippin one last kiss, and pushed himself up. "They'll be wondering where I am," he muttered, reluctantly, "and I'd rather they not go looking. Your family is due tonight as well, Pip, so we both needs make our entrance. Separately, of course, though I doubt if that fools many these days."

Rising lithely from the mattress, he pulled Pippin up as well and turned to the rumpled heap that had been their clothing. "Sun's just about down," he commented, with a glance out the window. "Dinner not far off. I suppose we'd best put on our finery, because it's bound to be a massive affair. And of course, with me as the center of attention."

Pippin had been silently dressing as well, but as they were ready to leave, Merry suddenly grabbed him roughly by the shoulders and drew him into a passionate embrace. "Don't give up on me, Pip," he muttered, into Pip's ear. "I swear I won't lose you. Not ever, and not for anyone or anything."

Pip said nothing, but clutched Merry tightly, his eyes closing in heartfelt gratitude.


	2. Chapter 2

Estella Bolger let her mount find his way through the snowy rocks on his own, in the late afternoon chill. A little bit further up, and they reached the crest of the small hill. There it was. Brandy Hall, gleaming in the frosted light of that snowy afternoon; a magnificent structure of stone and timber and glinting glass windows, rising up and out of the hillside like the proud prow of some great ship, come improbably to rest half-buried in the side of Brandy Hill. Unlike anything in all of the Shire, and Estella fancied, somehow on this cold day, that it glistened like a great impossible palace of ice, which, in some manner that she did not currently have the leisure to consider, it was.

She had seen Brandy Hall before, of course, but never before with the insinuation implanted that she could possibly, on some distant day, be its Mistress. She shook her head unconsciously, trying to bury that very unlikely image, as her pony restlessly chafed at the unexpected halt. "I know, Windy," she murmured sympathetically in the ear of the dark grey pony, named for his ability for speed, among other attributes. "The stable is not far off, and you have been this way before, but it would never do to arrive on our own, before the rest of the party. No need to stand out, I should think. By the look of it, 'tis quite a crowd expected indeed, but it would not hurt to have a few others from Budgeford Smial around us." Without another glance, she turned back to rejoin her brother and her parents.

"Well, my dear, I still really don't quite know why we have to appear at this grand occasion," Odo Bolger was mildly grumbling to his wife as she joined them. He flicked a dollop of snow, that had tumbled from a tall pine as their ponies ambled under it, off his wool hat with a unconscious brush of his hand. "I mean, I know that Meriadoc Brandybuck is a chum of Fredegar's, along with that Baggins chap, bless if I can remember his name, but I'm not at all sure why we all must be making our way through this muck just for his birthday. Surely the lads can take care of matters without all this fuss. Hand out a few gifts, toast the occasion with a few bottles of Brandy Hall's finest, and the whole affair is taken care of. No need for the rest of us to be involved, really."

"You forget, dearest," Rosamunda Bolger responded with an indulgent smile, her pony plodding along side of his, "that dear Merry's mother is Esmeralda Took. You certainly can't imagine that she would let this milestone go without the greatest of fuss. Not to mention, I told you about Stella… Oh, but here she is. Tell us, dear heart, does it look like an awful crowd?"

"An absolute horde," her daughter pronounced with relish. "A couple of carriages have apparently just arrived, with some rather fine ponies," she added parenthetically toward her father, "and there are hobbits everywhere, and I can't believe there are actually going to be bedrooms for us all."

"Tut, the entire East Farthing could put up at Brandy Hall, should Mistress Brandybuck ever choose to have them on," Fatty murmured placidly, riding up at that moment to join the three of them. As the most frequent visitor out of the Bolger contingent, they did not dispute his knowledge. Odo did turn back to Estella though, on the one point that had actually captured his attention.

"Some fine ponies, eh?" he prompted her, rather enthusiastically. "They wouldn't be those rather tall dark chestnut ones, now, would they?" Estella grinned and gave him a wink and a nod.

"The Took dashers!" Odo answered her grin and sat up a little straighter in his saddle in his excitement. "Paladin has brought them after all! Well, my dear, this shouldn't be all as bad as it appears," he chuckled as his wife gave the two of them a long-suffering look, though unable to entirely hide her pleasure at their exhilaration.

"Freddy, my dear, I certainly hope that you will protect me from having to rely upon Esme Brandybuck for company," she sighed in apparent resignation, turning to her son. "Apparently the rest of the Bolgers will be spending our visit in the stables whenever possible."

"Actually, that does strike me as a rather sound strategy, but do not fear, mother of mine," Fatty responded gallantly. "I will face even the trial of ladies' tea at your side if it will give you comfort." A sound kiss on the cheek rewarded him for his loyalty, and the four Bolgers took a collective deep breath and rode down the rocky hill to Brandy Hall.

 

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The road through Buckland had become more familiar to Sam than he would have liked. He had traveled it on foot, in every season, and by carriage more than once. And nothing good had ever come of it, in his private opinion. Yet, he could not bring himself to begrudge Frodo's infrequent contact with his family, and he was secretly thankful that Frodo had steadfastly refused to appear here without him. After all these years, he knew Frodo's heart, and knew that Frodo's love for him had never been a source of guilt or shame for Frodo. There were so many differences that could have come between them, differences of class, of age, of what was expected of a gentlehobbit and what was not. But none of those had ever mattered, not for one moment, not from the day they had both become sure of each other's dreams and wishes. So Sam took a deep breath, and prepared himself to put up with anything he needed to, and prepared himself as well to shelter Frodo from whatever hurt and slight he could, and fervently wished, with all his heart, that they would be on the way back to Bag End, to their home and sanctuary, as soon as ever could be.

The Hobbiton pony was climbing the last hill, and Brandy Hall would soon be coming into view, as Sam gave the reins a sudden tug, halting the carriage and stealing a quick glance at Frodo, sitting silently next to him. Frodo's gaze was straight ahead, but faraway as well, and Sam could almost see him withdraw into himself. He suddenly thought of a hedgehog, drawing into a tight ball with bristles forward as its only defense, and gave Frodo's hand, resting tightly on the seat between them, a sympathetic pat. "Tis harder when they'd be family, ain't it, me dear," he murmured suddenly, and Frodo turned to him with a distinctly stormy expression.

Paying no heed, he continued on, his hand still resting on Frodo's. "Like when my brothers came down for my coming of age," he continued softly, watching Frodo with a small smile. "They said all manner of things to the gaffer about me, I never told you. An' not that I usually ever gave them a thought from day to day, as I was that young when they left, but still, it stuck in me throat, somehow, an' I couldn't just let it go. They'd be family, after all, and it's that hard t'let that go by, them treatin' me like a silly young fool w'naught but my own pleasure t'be thinkin' of."

"You never told me that, Sam," Frodo murmured quietly, his hand reaching up and tightening over Sam's. "What did your father have to say?"

"Well, now, he set his foot right down and said he'd hear naught of it," Sam smiled back at him with a hint of pride. "Said as it was my business and yours, and what they'd be thinkin' didn't really account for much, noways. He was a bit sharp on the matter, truth t'tell, and they left early the next morn. But still," he added, his smile fading, "I'd not be denyin' but it hurt a bit, them thinkin' badly of us."

"You're right, Sam," Frodo's arm was suddenly around his shoulders, and his voice was slightly husky. "We shouldn't care at all, for they've nothing to do with us and our life. So I'll try to keep my temper, my dear, and we'll try to avoid Aunt Esme and her friends as much as possible. We'll let Merry know how happy we are for him, but if I do end up saying something unforgivable, or you too, for that matter, for I've not forgotten you standing up to her that time in the kitchen, my dear, we'll leave before we're invited to, and Merry will have to celebrate all future birthdays at Bag End, if he wishes our company."

Sam gave the only possible response to this pledge, which was to throw his arms around Frodo and hungrily find his mouth, but the pony had had enough of conversation. He had been this way before as well, and knew there was a warm stable and hay, and perhaps an apple, just ahead. Paying no mind to his passengers, he pricked his ears up in the chill wind, gave a pronounced snort of decision, and started down the hill on his own, just as afternoon began to fade.

 

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Pansy and Iris Burrows left their room, dressed in their finest frocks and their hands clasped tightly together in their nervousness. They had been told the directions to the Great Hall, where dinner was to be held, but it seemed impossibly far away. "Where is your Folco?" Pansy asked a trifle sharply, trying her best to keep the squeak out of her voice. "Shouldn't he be taking us on in?"

"He said he'd find us there," Iris's voice was none too steady for that matter, and she shrank closer to her older sister. "He did have to pay his respects to Master Meriadoc, after all. He'll find us, Pansy, you know we can count on him."

"I certainly hope so," Pansy muttered, somewhat darkly, and set her shoulders. "Naught like this in Hobbiton, is there, my dear? Well, let's just see what this Great Hall is all about, shall we?"

They made their way from the somewhat narrow tunnel onto which their room faced, to the larger oak-paneled hall that led to the public rooms. Already there were quite a few other hobbits, mostly of obvious wealth and high station, ahead of them with apparently the same objective in mind. They were laughing and gaily chatting, and paying no heed to the two young lasses in their midst. Iris was just beginning to feel the prick of regret that she had ever thought this to be a good idea, when she suddenly spotted a face she knew, and never would have dreamed of seeing in this setting.

"Daisy Gamgee!" she gasped out with surprise, and at least three portly, elderly hobbits turned about to give her a quizzical look. She paid no attention to them, not even the one whose face suddenly grew cold, giving both her and her addressee a malevolent assessment of a look.

Daisy, though, had whirled about, also obviously surprised, and burst into a wide grin when she recognized the two visitors from Hobbiton. "My sister May's friends, and mine likewise," she murmured quickly to the elegantly clad gentlehobbit walking beside her, and with a fleeting touch to her companion's silver-garbed arm, turned and made her way back through the crowd to the Burrows'sisters. "Glory and trumpets!" she exclaimed in delight. "Whatever are the pair of you doin' here?"

"I could ask you, likewise," Pansy laughed, drawing her arm through Daisy's. "But 'tis good indeed to see a friendly face in this great place."

"The Burrows' sisters, Pansy and Iris," Daisy gave a quick introduction, as Pearl caught up with them as well. "All the way from Hobbiton, they are. But wait now, didn't you tell me as your intended was from these parts?" she flashed Iris a sudden look of comprehension. "Folco, that'd be the name, ain't it?"

"Oh, not ever Folco Boffin?" Pearl exclaimed with a merry peal of laughter. "Oh, my dear, you must be quite the lass indeed, if you have managed to tempt Folco Boffin away from his contrivances and contraptions! But many congratulations, for he is a kindly and loyal friend, and would make the most perfect husband that I could ever imagine. Come, my dears, we must find our places in the Hall before all the best of seats are taken. We don't want to end up in the corner with all the elderly aunts, after all, and have to behave ourselves. Great-Aunt Delphinium can be a perfect dragon, you know, and I would give a great deal not to have to spend an evening making polite conversation with her!"

There was no disagreement to this proposal on the part of her companions, but as they good-naturedly swept by the others in the hallway, there was one who fixed his gaze upon Pearl Took, and gave her a judicial stare.

 

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"Dilly! Look to the roast, child! You cannot be gawking after the guests at a time like this!" Cook's booming voice was heard over the cacophony of Brandy Halls' kitchen. "Keep it turning steady, or we'll all be answering to the Missus as to why the bottom o'it was burnt." Her face flushed and damp, and her arms akimbo, she surveyed her realm with a practiced eye, giving a curt nod to the serving lasses, just beginning to exit the kitchen with the first dishes. "Go check the tables again, Aster," she instructed a very young and clearly unnerved hobbit. "Just make sure that there'd be enough cutlery and plates on the tables for all. Don't be quivering like that, lass, they'll never be seeing you, t'be sure. We're naught in the eyes of gentlefolk. Stay out of the way o'the Missus, though, mind, for she'll be in a right nasty mood tonight, I'll warrant. These crowds seem t'allus bring out the worst o'her," she grumbled, mostly to herself, as young Aster scurried off on her errand.

"Ah, there you'd be, Holly," she briskly greeted the househobbit lass, waiting patiently in the doorway. "All the fine folk sent off to their rooms, eh?"

"Well, as far as I'd be knowin'," Holly spoke up, unperturbed by Cook's seemingly stormy mood, "but our Master Frodo and Samwise Gamgee are just here, likewise, an' they'd be on their way in."

Cook's face had just enough time to break into a wide grin, when the two guests in question made their appearance at the kitchen door, opened wide to the chill early evening due to the steam and heat of the preparations inside. "Master Frodo!" she exclaimed with delight, making her deliberate way through the apparently chaotic scene. "Stars above, I knew you'd not be missing Master Meridoc's fest."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Frodo grinned cheerfully, giving his dark curls a quick shake before entering the kitchen and brushing off the snow that had begun to fall once again outside. "I just thought it might be a bit easier to come through the back entrance, and avoid all the fuss at the entryway."

"Ah, but 'tis good t'be seeing you," she beamed at him, quickly intercepting one of the serving lasses and thrusting a large platter of fragrant stuffed mushrooms in his direction. "You timed that right nicely, or you'd never be getting any o'this tonight. Go right fast, they do. And I'd not be forgetting what a favorite of yours they'd be. And here's your Master Samwise," she added, offering the platter to Sam likewise, as he followed Frodo inside, a couple of their packs on his back and another in one hand. "We'd not be forgetting you soon, Master Gamgee," she added with a wink. "Did many of our hearts good, you did, a few summers back," she added as Sam gave her a tentative smile in return and gratefully accepted the plump golden brown morsel.

"But the dinner'd be on right soon," she added, with a slight sigh, "and I needs be off. Your room in the tower is as you like it, and I've had a fire going all afternoon t'keep the chill off."

"How lovely! Not to worry, we'll be back to have a bit of a chat later, Cook dear," Frodo reassured her with a fond pat on her shoulder, as he picked up one of the packs Sam had brought in. "Your kitchen was always a haven for me, you know that. But tell me, who has arrived thus far?"

"Bless you, Mr. Frodo," Cook sighed, wiping her forehead only a trifle dramatically. "Who hasn't? Tooks of every description, t'be sure, every Brandybuck as has a leg t'walk on, that Boffin lad, some lasses from Hobbiton, I'd not be knowing their name. Oh, and your sister, Master Gamgee," she nodded towards Sam, who nodded his head in pleased acknowledgement. "And that nasty piece o'work," she added in a lowered voice, giving a quick glance about as she did so, "as is a friend of the Missus. Bracesomething, I'd not be remembering it proper."

But before Frodo could react to that, a tall form materialized at his side, and with a drawl, smoothly interposed, "And Bolgers, my good lady. Can't be forgetting them now, can we?"

"Fatty!" Frodo spun around in delight, giving his friend a delighted hug. "Indeed, Bolgers are not to be forgotten on any account!"

Cook beamed at the latest arrival, who had won a firm place in her heart as well, with his abundant praise of her skills, and demonstrable enthusiasm in putting them to the test. "You lads be sure to stop by, now, if there'd be anything you'd be wanting, no matter the time, but I must be shooing you out now." She handed the platter off to the patiently waiting lass, and decisively waved them towards the hall entryway. "There's a grand feast t'be putting on tonight, and I'll not stint on Master Merry's fest guests. Off w'ye now."

The trio accepted her command willingly enough, and Fatty snatched up the bag Sam had put down previously. With a last pass at the platter before it proceeded them down the hall, four more mushrooms vanished without any notice by the serving lass, and Fatty nodded his head to both Sam and an amused Frodo. "Don't you have some quaint little perch of a room high atop all the rabble and bustle, Frodo?" he inquired, as soon as he was able, with a last lick of his fingers. "It's there we must take ourselves, lads, as soon as we can, for we must take counsel together, even before we dine. It is that important, my dear fellows."

Frodo and Sam gave each other a surprised glance at Fatty's declaration, for that sounded indeed a matter of supreme urgency. "As you say, Fatty," Frodo nodded, and smoothly relieved Sam of another pack before he could protest. "Just follow me."

 

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Delphinium Brandybuck surveyed the crowded hall with a practiced eye. It was the older set she was observing; the younger were shallow creatures, with never much to say, and only worth the time if there was absolutely no one else available. She smoothed out her brocaded frock skirt with a satisfied gesture. Her dressmaker had done a fairly decent job on it, she must admit, and the rather bright blue was one of her better colors. It certainly did not do to go unnoticed in a large crowd, and the heavy gold chains about her neck and massive sapphire ring were the final festive touches. Let the young lasses have their lighter dresses, and delicate flowers and jewels. A gentlehobbit of her stature had a certain duty to uphold the Brandybuck honor.

That was something Esme Brandybuck was competent enough at, as well. She gave an approving glance toward the Mistress of Brandy Hall, with a goblet of fine wine in her hand, as she stood in the midst of a collection of wealthy and appropriately attired guests and gaily laughed at a companion's witty sally. Her Took cousin, Rosamunda, standing nearby, smiled politely and took a deep sip from her goblet at the remark. Who had she married again? It was one of those "B" names, wasn't it? Delphinium tried to recollect it. Boffin? Baggins? No, there were no females left there. Bolger? Yes, that was it. Ortho, Olin, something of the sort. But definitely Bolger. And there was Paladin Took's wife as well, Eglantine. Staring off out the window again. Distractable creature. Surely there was nothing but horrid snow to be seen, and it was nearly quite dark as well.

The hobbit who had spoken before uttered another bon mot, and Esme gave another merry peal of laughter. Who was the fellow, anyway? Ah, she recognized him now, from his previous visits here. Bracegirdle, his name was, a cousin of that Lobelia who had married the Sackville-Baggins out Hobbiton way. Quite a favorite of Esme's, apparently, though she could never imagine why. A petty, devious sort, in her opinion. Entirely too entranced by the power and wealth of the Bucklands - she had seen his type before. Well, there was never any telling Esme anything, but it was time for her to join the group and perhaps distract them from whatever it was that the Bracegirdle was going on about. She had no doubt but that it would be a welcome relief to most of the party, for she was not bad at all at reading expressions.

But before she could do so, she became aware of an oddly tall and thin lass, quite young, giving her a remarkably appraising look as she drew near. Before she had a chance to wonder why she was not part of the group of young lasses that were entertaining themselves before the great fireplace with gossip and giggles, and audacious glances toward the lads, the unlikely individual boldly approached her, and gave a perfunctory curtsy. "Good evening, Mistress," she greeted her in a polite manner. "I am Estella Bolger. Tell me, if you please, do you play cards?"

 

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Iris Burrows gave a silent sigh of relief as she finally spotted Folco Boffin from across the crowded room. Leaving her sister, Pearl and Daisy to follow as best they might, she threaded towards him through the chattering mass, and Folco's serious face lit up as he noticed her approach. "Merry," he exclaimed with a warm smile, as he turned to the quiet hobbit standing next to him, drawing Iris quite close with an affectionate arm about her shoulders, "may I present my intended, Iris Burrows?"

Iris gave a slight gulp as she took the hand of the future Master of Brandy Hall in greeting. It was not as if she had never seen him before, for he had been the guest of Frodo Baggins on numerous Summer Fests as well as other occasions, but she had not seen him in several years. He had seemed far younger the last time she had seen him, a tween, and although he had been pleasant enough, she had paid him little mind, and his future position in the Shire had been a matter of little consequence. But here he was, in his own imposing home, looking unmistakably older, grander, and to her mind, more than a little sad. It was that last quality, perhaps, that caused her to grasp his hand warmly, and murmur her congratulations in a heartfelt, although shy, manner.

There was another at his side, however, and she immediately recognized him as Merry's cousin, Pippin Took. She knew that the young Took was as frequent a visitor to Bag End as was Meriadoc Brandybuck, and there was something in his face, and the way he quietly stood at Merry's side, that suddenly made her feel a little sympathetic to the both of them. Indeed, there was something in Pippin Took's expression, when he glanced at his cousin, that tugged suddenly at her heart, and made her very glad that she and Folco had found happiness together so easily.

But there was no time now for such thoughts, for the servants were discreetly ringing the bells that were to summon the guests into the great dining hall, and Merry gave a last look about, with only partially concealed disappointment written across it. "Do you see Frodo anywhere about?" he turned to Pippin with a frown. "I was sure he'd be here tonight."

"Fatty, too," Pippin observed quietly. "But look, there's his sister, and his mother is over by yours. Perhaps they've only just gotten here. He'll find us out, if he is here, and Sam and Frodo too, I'm quite sure." He began to open his mouth, as if to say more, but then apparently thought the best of it, and stopped, giving Merry's shoulder a quick squeeze instead. The bells tinkled once again, and with a great rustle and rumble, the crowd moved toward Brandy Hall's magnificent dining hall. Odo Bolger, who had been part of an animated crowd about Saradoc Brandybuck, found his wife, drawing his arm through hers, and Palatine Took found his. The drawing room was soon deserted save for the household help, who quickly picked up the abandoned goblets and plates, and almost instantly set the room to rights. In no time at all, it was as if no one had occupied the room for days. It was only after the first course was being served, and the great doors were being closed, that the last three latecomers scurried in, nearly unnoticed, into the dining hall. Merry's countenance immediately cleared, though, and Pippin, at the other end of the massive wooden table with the rest of his family, beamed happily.

 

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Fatty, upon following the other two into the room, had nearly immediately headed toward the round window, and stared out of it curiously. "I do believe there is a bird actually flying below us, my dear fellows," he observed, turning again to the other two with a raised eyebrow. "How the both of you actually sleep so high off the ground, I'll never know; you may as well be on the roof. As Merry tells me you have been, in point of fact."

Frodo laughed at Fatty's expression of wry bewilderment, and Sam chuckled as well, as he neatly stacked the packs in the corner, and picking up the poker, gave the smoldering fire a couple of good jabs. "There had to be some way to escape that scamp, when he was younger, and it was the only place he couldn't manage to follow me. At least, until those long legs he now has suddenly appeared. But I know you haven't accompanied us up to my roost to discuss my childhood haunts. At least not before dinner."

"Indeed," Fatty murmured, nonchalantly seating himself on the only chair in the room, and drawing it close to the re-kindled fire. Sam and Frodo gave each other a quick glance, and a small mutual shrug, and seated themselves together at the edge of the narrow bed as they prepared themselves to hear Fatty's revelations.

"As we are insufferably all too aware, Merry is on the verge of coming of age," Fatty examined his nails carefully, and ignored Frodo's raised eyebrow. "Thus perhaps you can also surmise what his mother's overweening obsession has been as of late."

"Don't tell me she's planning to marry him off this very night," Frodo gave a disgusted huff of annoyance. "What, is she scheming to auctioning him off like a prize bull?"

"I would suspect that your proposed plan has not gone unconsidered," Fatty replied mildly, "but she has hit upon a slightly more decorous approach. She has, as a matter of record, chosen the other party to be involved, a fact of which Merry is currently altogether unaware."

"How very good of her," Frodo shook his head in disbelief. "That certainly saves some time, now, doesn't it? But who is this unfortunate party, and how do you know of these plans? I would hardly have taken you for Aunt Esme's confidante."

"True, I do not have her utmost confidence, oddly enough. However, since the lass in question is the fair flower of the Bolger household, I have a definite in there."

"Your sister, Estella?" Frodo retorted, now thoroughly mystified. "Why on earth her? And what does she think of this scheme?"

"Well, the latter question is the more easily answered," Fatty gave them an amused grin, as he looked up from his previous examination of his nails. "She thinks it's a pile of rubbish, and is vastly amused by it all. She is, quite possible, even more set against the thought of getting married than is Merry, if that can be imagined. And as for the why? Only Esme Brandybuck can truly say, although I suspect she felt that she was running out of options, especially with the Took sisters unmistakably out of the running. I certainly did my best to cast the shadow of dissolute behavior over the house of Bolger, but apparently it was an insufficient effort."

"And you say that Merry knows nothing of this?" Frodo asked after a moment's silence, as he tried to make sense of this information.

"Not likely," Fatty shook his head. "She was corresponding with my mother in the very strictest of confidence, and wishes to speak to my parents again, while they are here, first. You know how very necessary it is for her to have everything in order prior to setting the pawns in motion, one might say. Needless to say, the family Bolger is less than enchanted by this whole proposal, or at least the way she is going about it. Funny thing, you know, I could see those two actually hitting it off rather nicely, one of these days, but not if they are shoved at each other, so to speak."

"Possibly you have something in that," Frodo mused as he considered what, if anything, he knew regarding Fatty's sister. She did seem an intelligent lass, one who was not easily led, and who kept her own counsel. That was promising, in as far as it went. But Fatty was quite right, no good of it would come about if Esme, with her usual obstinate imperiousness, tried to force the issue. Trying to make some sense of the whole affair, he fell back, as usual, on Sam's quiet good hobbit sense. "What do you make of this, Sam?"

"I wouldn't think there'd be much point in us tryin' to make a case to Mistress Esme," Sam replied matter-of-factly, "as she takes no stock in us, no ways. But mayhap, somebody ought to be tellin' Merry about her plans. Foretold is forewarned, I'd say."

"True enough," Frodo sighed, "but that's just holding the match to the powder, so to speak. If there's any chance of us helping Merry to come up with some sort of rational solution to all this, we are going to have to pry him, and Pippin too, without a doubt, from all this commotion down below, and lay out the facts, as we know them. But since he is, willingly or no, the center of attention, that might be somewhat tricky to manage."

"Point taken," Fatty nodded his head decisively. "But you are exactly right, Sam. For his sake, and Stella's, too, for that matter, for I'd hate to have Merry think she had anything to do with concocting this whole scheme, we'd better find a way to get a private word with him. Difficult, under the circumstances, but not, I should think, impossible." As usual with Fatty's more cryptic utterances, a sly smile lit his face and, also as usual, the other two hobbits know that he would say no more about it, at least for the time being.

However, they were running out of time to make their entrance for dinner, and whatever the faults hospitality at Brandy Hall might occasionally have, meals were always something that went off without a hitch. Further conversation was therefore postponed, and the three hungry hobbits followed the tempting aromas into the great hall, all further scheming put off for the moment.

 

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Bramble and Rufus Grubb were seated at the far end of the massive table, quite near the door from whence the serving lasses were coming and going, actually, but they hardly noticed the bustle in their wide-eyed wonder of the scene before them. So much food - it barely seemed credible that even such a great crowd could manage to devour it all. Not that they were quite sure what some of it was, but they sampled whatever dish happened to come their way, and they had not yet found one to be deficient. Even the most lowly of foods was somehow embellished, or laid over with an enticing sauce, and Bramble was beginning to think that if she could just pop into the kitchen and have a word or two with the genius behind all this culinary enchantment, that she would be able to go home more than satisfied with this extraordinary visit. Rufus would never look at turnips again in the same way, if she could only discover the secret of that amazing glaze with which they had been covered, she was most sure of that.

But it was not only the dinner itself that had them enthralled. It was the overall splendor, from the rich and luxurious appointments of the hall itself, to the splendid clothing and jewels of the celebrants, not to mention the opulent array of platters, and gold and silver utensils, and dark richly colored glass goblets, in which fine wine was freely flowing. But as much as they proudly considered themselves part of the vast family Brandybuck, this scene was quite nearly overwhelming, and they were silently beginning to feel themselves severely out of their element. Bramble moved a little closer to her husband, who was sitting up rather straight, and clearly somewhat uncomfortable. Those around them had been polite, without a doubt, but they did not have, apparently, much in the way of common topics of conversation, and the polite chat had lagged, and then been dropped altogether, as their neighbors turned to those nearby whom they knew, in lieu of the slightly bucolic newcomers.

There had been an observer to this, however, and towards the end of the meal, she politely excused herself from where she had been sitting, and moved down the table to an empty seat next to Bramble. "Good evening," she respectfully greeted them, giving a slight curtsy in deference to their years, before she sat down. "My name'd be Daisy Gamgee. Is it your first visit here? It is very nearly mine."

"Well, child, I must admit that'd be the case," Bramble Grubb smiled gratefully to her, and patted the bench beside where she sat invitingly. "Not that we haven't known Master Brandybuck for many a year now, for, truth to tell, Mr. Grubb, here, would be his third cousin, on his mother's side, you know." The aforementioned Mr. Grubb remained silent, his invariable custom in the company of strangers, but tipped his head towards Daisy and grinned affably. "Oh, stars above, I am that rattled, I don't believe I introduced us," she exclaimed then, with a laugh, already more comfortable with the quiet lass than any of the other guests to whom she had thus far spoken. " 'Tis Bramble and Rufus Grubb, indeed, that we are. Gamgee, was it? I'm afraid I don't quite recognize that name, my dear, but then we don't know many folk from about here. Is the rest of your family here too, dearie?"

"No, I am from Hobbiton, and my family'd not be gentlehobbits," Daisy responded frankly. "But I am here with the Tooks, for I sometimes stay with them as a healer, and my brother, Samwise is here, likewise," she continued, and discreetly nodded to the quiet corner where Sam sat, laughing and in an animated conversation with Frodo and Fatty, as well as Folco, who had joined the other three.

"Now, let me guess, my dear, it could never be the dark one, for you don't look like him at all," Bramble pondered the question happily, surveying the party in question carefully. "And the lad in that rather bright jacket is far too tall and thin, I think. And of the other two, there is something about your face that is much like the light-haired one, for indeed, you both have the same kindly look."

"Yes, that is Samwise," Daisy admitted with a bit of amusement. "The dark-haired gentlehobbit is his friend, Frodo Baggins, the tall one is Fat…, erm, Fredegar Bolger," she corrected herself just in time, "and the last is, I believe, Folco Boffin."

"Stars above, is that actually Fatty Bolger?" Bramble started up at that piece of news, staring at Fatty with a great deal of curiosity. "I've heard so very much about him, you know, and …" With that, her voice trailed off, and she gave a slightly embarrassed cough. A good deal of what she had heard was not the sort of thing one shared with such a new acquaintance, so she turned to another of his companions. "Frodo Baggins," she mused thoughtfully. "There used to be a Drogo Baggins that lived hereabouts, but he and his wife went out in a boat, if you can imagine, and the poor things met a sad end. But Father, dear," she nudged her husband at this point, who had been mutely but carefully following the conversation. "Wasn't there a fauntling?"

"Son. Frodo Baggins," Rufus affirmed in a deep voice that sounded somewhat unused, to Daisy's ear.

"Why that must be him!" Bramble exclaimed happily, turning back to stare at the hobbit in question with frank interest. And for the rest of the meal, Daisy helped them try to place the rest of the guests, using the quick introductions Pearl had given her as they entered, and wracking her head together with the Grubbs on some of the others. She found it far more entertaining than sitting quietly in the vicinity of the Tooks, as she had on the previous occasions here, since Esme seemed to feel strongly about separating close family members and more illustrious guests, from those who were more in the periphery. She caught a quick glance from Pearl from time to time, and gave her a merry smile. When they were finally together later this night, she knew Pearl would be pleased, for there was nothing the eldest Took enjoyed more than a good gossip, and the Grubbs were proving to have quite a store of unexpected revelations that they were more than happy to share.

 

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Delphinium Brandybuck settled a bit more comfortably in her favorite chair, in a secluded nook by the back fire, in Brandy Hall's drawing room. Saradoc had broken out the better vintage this night, in honor of the company, and she had had perhaps a glass more than she generally did. As a matter of fact, there was another next to her, on a small table along with a discreet plate with an assortment of cheese, on which to nibble should the mood strike, and she was feeling most decidedly affable. So when the odd child (unmistakably a Bolger, what was the name again?) approached her once again, she was in the mood to indulge her in her whim. "Sit, lass," she greeted her with a tolerant smile. "Pull that table up. I believe there is generally a deck of cards in the canister on the back chest, against the wall, if you'd care to have a look. So. Cards, is it? What an odd request, to be sure. What is it you younger ones play anyway? Go Seek? Odd Maid Out?"

But Estella, having found the deck and fetched the table, seated herself confidently opposite the elderly gentlehobbit and shuffled the cards quite suddenly, with an expert riff. "All Fours. Diamonds trump," she gave Delphinium a wicked gleam of a smile, as she expertly dealt out the first hand.

Delphinium immediately sat up a little straighter, her benevolent muzziness suddenly vanished. Child she might be, but the astute Brandybuck instantly recognized the signs of a worthy adversary. "Five rounds, winner take all," she snapped, commandingly, snatching up her hand.

"Double points on the last," Estella's eye took on a hungry gleam and her smile widened.

And in no more than a matter of minutes, Delphinium was staring, with a bit of shock, at a pile of cards on Estella's side of the table and a complete dearth of the same on hers. But she rallied quickly, and with a quick sip of her wine, swept the deck into her practiced grasp and expertly shuffled with a resounding riff of her own. "A good start, my dear, quite promising. It would seem you have a certain amount of skill. What did you say your name was again?" But before Estella could manage to reply, Delphinium had dealt out two hands and slapped the deck back down. "Hearts trump. Four of a kind trick, and five a straight." She gave the young lass a positively fiendish grin. This was promising to be quite an enjoyable evening, after all.

 

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"Bollocks. The fire must have died completely in here," Frodo sighed, opening the door to their room ahead of Sam. "It always was positively frosty in here of a winter, much colder than the rooms under the hi… Oh!"

He barely had time to utter that monosyllable as he was suddenly pinned against the wall. Sam had dexterously closed the door with a swiftly aimed kick of his foot, and at the very same time managed to gather his arms quite full of Frodo and plant his mouth hungrily on the base of Frodo's neck, right at the spot where, at some point during the evening, the top button had become undone quite without its owner having taken notice. Apparently, however, Sam had.

"Ah!" Frodo sighed happily, varying the monosyllable as he melted into Sam's embrace, his fingers finding Sam's curls irresistible. He was just beginning to discover that his legs were in the process of going boneless, but that didn't seem to be an issue due to the way Sam had him quite tightly held. "That was rather good wine, wasn't it, my dear?" he added, with a noticeable giggle.

"Waren't the wine," Sam managed to mutter, and then returned to his preoccupation with that enticing indentation that had tormented him so all evening. And while one hand still kept the both of them upright, with the kindly assistance of the wall, the other had begun to travel downward, and soon disappeared under Frodo's garments.

"Oh!" Frodo reverted once again to monosyllables, and both his eyes and smile widened with delight. "Bed," he gasped, for although his legs were weakening, other parts were most definitely not.

Sam had no issue with that, so in a moment, Frodo found himself on a cold bed, with just enough presence of mind to reach out and whisk away the top coverlet before he landed, with Sam immediately over him. The chilly room was rapidly fading from the front of his mind, and indeed, his brain was getting decidedly muzzy as he thrust a knee up next to Sam just as Sam, mouth by now firmly on his, and his tongue performing wonderfully clever feats - however did Sam think these things up? - began to tug at his unfastened breeches. Well, this was good, very good indeed, and he arched his head back and thrust his hips up, and never noticed that Sam's exploring hand had momentarily left where it was so wonderfully placed, and was now, inexplicably enough, in his pocket.

"Butter, Frodo! Where is it?" there came a sudden hiss in his ear, as Sam broke his mouth away and ceased that wildly satisfying movement on top of him. Frodo froze as well, his brows suddenly contracting in dismay, and his brain returning to more mundane matters with a thud.

"I never got it," he exclaimed in disappointment, his breath still a little harsh and his fingers frozen, once again, in Sam's curls. "Aunt Esme was watching me like a hawk in a chicken coop all evening, just to make sure I stayed away from Merry. But I thought I saw you by the butter dish."

"Nay," Sam replied in dismay. "I thought I saw you reach for it, an' I'd not want to be takin' more."

"Well, I did try, but then Bracegirdle started to… Oh, blast, Sam, it doesn't really matter why, but we don't have it."

Both silently and gloomily pursued the thought of what might have been, for a moment, still fixed in place. But the wine, in the end, was too potent for that state of affairs to last, and Frodo was in far too good a mood. Leaning up just slightly, he playfully nipped the end of Sam's delectable nose. "I promise you I will make off with a whole crock of it tomorrow," he whispered enticingly, as Sam's loving smile began to creep across his face again. "Right from under Cook's nose. I always was rather good at that. And I shall positively slather every inch of you with it, or myself, if that's what you prefer," he added, with a sly arch of a brow, and an alluring wriggle beneath Sam.

"Do I have the word of a Baggins on that?" Sam murmured, his hand beginning to creep back to where it had been previously so well-employed. "I would hate t'be disappointed twice, indeed I would."

"Oh, I plan on not disappointing you at all," Frodo purred, slyly starting to move under Sam in a rhythmic manner that had never failed him yet, and slipping a hand down to the fastening of Sam's garments.

"Ah, you never do, dearie," Sam closed his eyes, and began to join Frodo in the rhythm with a sigh, and a small shift in position that caused Frodo to give a hum of delight. And that was good once again, indeed, wonderfully good, and he could possibly manage to do this all night except that he knew that he couldn't last very much longer, when a most disturbing fact began to tug most insistently at his otherwise preoccupied brain.

Somehow, he had managed to become pinned against the wall at the edge of the bed, with Sam covering him quite thoroughly, and that was certainly fine, because Sam could lay atop him anytime he pleased, especially if he continued to rock just, oh, there. But the bed appeared to be giving way under him. And rather hazily, he realized that the bed was inching away from the wall bit by bit, and that he was gradually sinking between the side of the bed and the wall, and that if he didn't stop for a moment, and squirm over to the side just a trifle, that he would most likely be hitting the floor rather abruptly. But, bother. That would mean interrupting Sam, and he really couldn't see doing that, not just yet, not when Sam was doing such an excellent job of sending quivers up and down every limb he possessed, and oh, sweet Lady. It wouldn't be that much longer anyway, for he had quite given up on the lasting all night thing, as he shut his eyes tightly and met every move of Sam's with an eager fervent one of his own.

And now there was nothing for it, for each move that he and Sam made together was shoving the bed further away from the wall, and he further down in the process, yet he could no more stop what he was doing than he could give up breathing, or making that odd moan that he vaguely heard himself making, and he found himself melting into liquid ecstasy with a muted yowl, and hitting the stone floor with a hearty whump very nearly simultaneously.

There was a moment's silence, or at least close to silence save for the sound of ragged breathing, and then he heard Sam, quite close to his ear, mutter apologetically, between gulps of air, "Mayhap I should be a mite more careful w'the furniture. You all right, Frodo-love?"

"Absolutely lovely, Sam dear," Frodo murmured, quite sincerely, and found himself blinking sleepily. "You just keep lying there, love, and I'll just be closing my eyes for a bit. Oh, no," he added drowsily, tightening his hold around Sam. "Don't you even think of getting up."

Sam chuckled fondly then, and carefully extracted himself from Frodo's embrace, despite Frodo's groggy protests. "Here, me darling, you won't be thinkin' that, come the middle of the night. Now, dearie, just you pick yourself up a bit, aye, there we are, and I'll get you into bed proper. And let me lean against the wall, this time, me dear, I'll not be slipping down the crack as fast as you, I'll warrant."

So before long, the fire, or what was left of it, was banked for the night, all unnecessary garments were shed and neatly laid over the chair, the bed was now shoved back firmly in place with the additional help of the chest to stabilize it and Sam, his back prudently against the wall, was tucked securely into his customary spot in Frodo's embrace. Sleep found both of them nearly instantly.

 

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"What in the name of all that's good are they doing down there, moving furniture?" Pippin poked his head from out from under the rough blanket and peered into the dark with a bewildered expression, as if there were anything to see. The noises coming from down the hall were quite difficult to ignore, and that loud thump that had set things off had made both of them jump.

"We can get a full accounting in the morning, except, they're not to know we're here," muttered Merry, with considerably less curiosity than Pippin, and considerably more frustration. "Really, Pip, it's their business, now, isn't it? Frankly, they can rearrange the room anytime they wish. And as to our business…"

He heard a light laugh from Pippin as a reply, and his response, as he dove under the covers again, was apology enough. Merry sighed gratefully, and flung his head back, instantly forgetting about anything else but his inexhaustible craving for the touch of the one he loved beyond all else.


	3. Chapter 3

It was a polite, but oddly insistent, knock that caused Pippin to surface, most reluctantly, into consciousness. He was lying in the snuggest and coziest of fashions under a very unconscious Merry, and for a fleeting moment, had the wistful thought that if he only lay quite still, the intruder might just go away.

And yet there it was again, three sharp raps. Sleepily, Pippin ran over his mental list of possible culprits, and came to an inevitable conclusion. So it was not a total surprise when, after managing to push the quite enticing even though still unconscious Merry to the side, hoist himself grudgingly to his feet, and upon finding himself remarkably bare in the icy early morning air, groggily snatch up his jacket from where it just happened to rest at the top of the heap of clothes which had been feverishly discarded the night before, and at last crack open the door, that he found Frodo waiting outside, smiling and appearing disgustingly chipper for a hobbit who had not yet even had first breakfast.

"Do let me in Pip, there's a good fellow," he observed mildly, and with not giving Pippin a chance to decline, gently pushed the door a little further open and allowed himself in. "Well, I suppose that that would keep your shoulders warm," he observed, regarding Pippin's choice of garment with a smile, "but a little drafty about the knees, I should think."

"Confound you, Frodo, what are you doing here? And how did you know where we were anyways?" a by now awakened Merry growled, sitting up on the pile of blankets that served as a bed and giving Frodo a bleary look as Pippin, with a noticeable squeak, dove back under the rough blankets along side of Merry.

"As for the former, inviting you to breakfast," Frodo grinned, perching on the edge of a packing crate with the greatest equanimity. "And the latter? My dear Merry, I was living here before you were born. Trust me, a new lock on a door, especially up here where few venture, tells me one thing and one thing alone. It was not too hard to figure out where the both of you might have ended up, especially with a household full of guests."

"Hah. Very observant. But at least we were not rearranging the furniture late at night, at any rate," Merry grumpily commented, drawing the coverings a little tighter around Pippin and himself.

"I suppose not," and possibly only Merry could have told that Frodo's cheeks reddened a little at that comment. "The layout wanted something. But I have not come to discuss that. There are matters, Merry, of which you must be made aware. And, I suppose, you as well, Pip."

"Oh, indeed.. And what ever happened to the custom of greeting your host upon arrival?" Frodo could immediately tell that Merry was not to be dissuaded from his obviously rehearsed comments. "Invited to a birthday, no less, but no 'Hello, Merry, good to see you again, and best wishes' sort of thing at all. Instead, sidle in late to dinner, and scuttle out as soon as… confound it, but you are being mysterious. What matters?"

"Oh, only of the utmost importance," Frodo loftily assured him. "And it would never do to discuss such on an empty stomach. But as for your complaint, you definitely have a point. So…" and before Merry had had a chance to realize what Frodo had in mind, he found Frodo kneeling at the sacks at his side, Frodo's arm quite firmly about his bare shoulders, and Frodo's mouth planted most decisively on his own. It did take a moment before he could begin to respond, hazily realizing that there was no tongue being offered, and not entirely sure whether to be relieved or disappointed on that score, but Frodo drew himself back then, and calmly, and with something very close to a smirk, stated, "Consider that a hello to make up for last night. Your birthday wishes can still wait a couple of days, I believe."

Standing up again, he turned to the pile of clothing, and picked it up and tossed in in the rather stunned pair's laps. "Up you go, now," he coolly commanded them, "don't dawdle, there's the lads. You're keeping Fatty from breakfast, you know, and that's never a good thing."

Merry turned to Pippin, who was staring at the both of them with his mouth unmistakably open, and gave him a slight shove. "Come along, Pip, we are under orders, it would appear. Looks like we must obey our elders."

"Wise choice," Frodo airily agreed, and led the other two soon out into the drafty hall and down the stairs by the early light of dawn.

 

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It was Sam who had been commandeered to gather together breakfast, and meet the party at the agreed-upon rendezvous location. So he patiently waited in the warm, steamy kitchen, where the bakers had already been up hours before, setting out the dough for the morning's first batch of baking, and where young maids were hurrying in from the cold frosty morning out-of-doors with aprons carefully full of freshly laid eggs. A stout lass with a rather exceptional pair of arms was busily churning the butter, and the alluring scent of frying bacon and onions had just started to waft through the great room.

Cook had treated the request for a first breakfast to go for a sextet of hungry young hobbits with the calm thoroughness that befit such a experienced captain of the heart of Brandy Hall, and soon had a pair of packs fully laden with a delectable assortment of breakfast materials, not to mention a couple of well-packed steaming flasks. "Whatever you lads are about," she stated coolly, "you'd best be giving Master Merry his tea first off, or he'll be good for naught. Master Frodo, likewise, but I'm sure you'd be knowing that."

And before Sam could decide whether or not a blush was in order at that last comment, he had been dispatched out the great doorway of Brandy Hall's kitchen, and was headed towards the apple shed.

If he had only left a few moments later, however, he would have heard a familiar voice calling his name. As it was, Daisy came running after him with only a thin wrap about herself, just in time to see him disappear behind the hill that led to the outbuildings. It wasn't the cold air that was on her mind though, as she watched him disappear from where she stood in the shelter of the corner of the snowy but well-sanded kitchen yard, but what she had just heard. With a sigh, she returned to the kitchen, resolving to catch him later.

 

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Daisy tended to rise early, a habit engrained by the fact that she was generally the chief baker of the Gamgee sisters. Since the other two had fauntlings with which to be concerned - only two thus far for May, but rounding close to half a dozen for Marigold - she was, by default, the chief baker of the Gamgee clan.

So she had been up, heading for the kitchen for an early morning first breakfast tray for Pearl and herself, since the thought of anyone else fetching it for them was inconceivable to her, when she had found Bracegirdle's young serving hobbit in the crook of the hallway, crumpled in a ball on the floor, and quietly and hopelessly sobbing. It had taken no time at all for Daisy to crouch next to him, slip a compassionate arm about his thin shoulders, and allow him to turn blindly to her, his tears still steaming down his face, and sob his broken confession into her concerned ear. And it had taken even less time than that for Daisy's temper to flare up at the injustice of his situation and the cruelty with which this fauntling, for he was no more than that, was being treated.

"Hush, now, m'dear, we're to see about that, indeed we will," she murmured soothingly in his ear, trying her best to keep the hot indignation that was enflaming her from reaching her voice. "You've a friend here, now, and 'tis Daisy as I'm known, Daisy Gamgee." The young hobbit wiped his face with his finely garbed arm, and gave a small sniffle of acknowledgement, gazing into her kind face with the awakening of hope. But a sudden look of panic quickly crossed his countenance, and he scrambled to his feet in alarm.

"I've been too long, indeed I have, and He'll be awaiting his breakfast," he muttered in dismay.

Daisy stifled the impulse to tell to young hobbit precisely what she thought he ought to do regarding the breakfast in question, for it did no good to urge him into defiance yet. "Fetch it, then, my dear lad," she laid a firm hand on his shoulder, "but don't you be forgettin' now. You're not alone, no ways, not any more."

The lad was off scrambling toward the kitchen, however, and never gave a look back.

 

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Sam, therefore, swiftly made his way to the apple shed on that brisk bright morning with no thought on his mind other than curiosity as to what Fatty was planning. Since budging Merry's mind on any matter of this degree of importance was well nigh impossible, in his private opinion, this promised to be a feat of great interest, to say the least, and he didn't wish to miss any of it. So it wasn't long before he had nearly caught up with Frodo and his cousins on the path to the apple shed. Frodo was striding ahead, leading the other two, with his hands in his pockets and a smile on his face, as if there was nothing that could be finer than an early morning's stroll on a clear frosty day, with the daybreak sparkling and glinting on the ice that still coated the bare trees. He stamped the fresh snow on the path down heartily, and whistled an aimless tune to himself, the picture of contentment.

Not quite so content, as they followed several paces behind, were Merry and Pippin. Indeed, as Sam began to draw near, he perceived that some rather testy words were being exchanged between the two of them.

"So what was he on about, anyway?" Pippin was obviously having some difficulty in keeping his voice down, and there was a rare frown on his face as he hissed the words towards Merry.

"Trying to flummox me. And doing a brilliant job of it, I might add. But you know it was no more than that, Pip," Merry responded with a soft growl, keeping a wary eye on Frodo, ahead of the both of them.

"I'm not sure at all that I know that," Pippin responded heatedly, yet nearly inaudible to anyone other than Merry. "I'm not sure Sam would have known that, either, had he been there."

Curious, Sam hung back just a trifle at that comment.

But Merry gave a snort of derision. "Pip, if you think cousin Frodo will ever have eyes for anyone but his Sam, you really don't know him as well as you think you do. The sun will stop rising in the east the day he changes his mind on that score, let me assure you. But look," he added, his voice rising slightly as he caught a glimpse of Sam catching up to them. "Here's the lad himself."

Frodo, who had just reached the snow-covered wooden steps that fronted the rustic shed, turned at Merry's comment, and only Sam could have told by the glint in Frodo's eye and the amused quirk to his mouth that he had heard every word of the exchange behind him. "Good timing, Sam," he mentioned mildly, tugging the rough door open. "I believe the savage beast that is a hungry Fatty, not to mention Folco, awaits us all within."

"Stars above," came a laconic drawl from the shadowy interior, as the newcomers hastily stamped the snow off of their feet, and entered the large shed. "I was very nearly afraid I would have to resort to breakfasting on my dear Folco, here, and his inestimable intended would not care for that a bit, I should imagine."

"Then we have come just in time, for between Cook and Sam, here, I suspect they have gauged your appetite properly, Fatty," Frodo laughed as Folco gave his companion a rather startled glance, and Sam gratefully dropped the heavy packs to the floor, seemingly verifying his words.

"Bless that Cook of yours, Merry; she is a veritable pearl among pearls, a treasure among cooks, indeed, the greatest of her kind," Fatty exclaimed, instantly opening and arranging and dividing, and in no time at all, breakfast was spread across the rude wooden bench and Fatty was munching contentedly, draping himself over a musty hay bale and accepting a steaming mug of tea from Sam with a grateful nod.

"I will be sure to pass along your complements, Fatty, but I really would rather have eaten it indoors, you know," Merry was endeavoring to persist in remaining cranky, but he couldn't help giving a start and turn to the corner hearth, where a brisk little fire was starting to warm the shed up nicely. "Good heavens. Who fixed that? That chimney was out of commission all last autumn. We should be choking on the smoke right about now."

"Oh, you know Folco," Fatty explained vaguely, waving a hand containing half a meat pastry about. "It was something involving a stick, and the bellows, and possibly a magical spell, but I didn't catch it all, really."

"Well done, Folco. Makes the whole place much more civilized. And now that the essentials have been taken care of," declared Frodo calmly, seating himself on an overturned empty apple barrel next to the hay bale, "we can turn - oh, thank you, love," he added, accepting the hot mug from Sam with a warm smile, "to the reason for this conference."

"Your mother," he continued, turning toward Merry with a suddenly serious expression, "has been considering the future Mistress of Buckland."

"And this is what you dragged me out of bed to tell me?" Merry questioned Frodo incredulously, accepting a freshly buttered roll from Sam at the same time with a nod of thanks. "That isn't exactly news, you know."

"Well, it wasn't exactly bed, either, but suffice it to say there is something you don't know, and that is precisely who the designated bride is to be."

"Some child whom she can lord over, no doubt," Pippin suddenly interjected rather heatedly. "Some silly young chit who would do anything to become the Mistress of Buckland."

"Including marrying me?" Merry gave him a wry glance, but his expression quickly softened at the look on Pippin's face. "Never mind, love, you know she can plot and scheme all she likes," he added hastily, wrapping a comforting arm about the young hobbit's shoulders. "It's not going to change a thing."

"You know, silly young chit might be taking it a bit far, my dear fellow," Fatty suddenly cleared his mouth of the remnants of a perfectly boiled egg, and pensively contemplated his nearly empty mug, "since the fair damsel in question actually happens to be my sister."

"What?" Merry's mouth dropped open in astonishment as he whipped his head around to stare at Fatty. "Estella? Whoever put that idea in her head?"

"It was certainly not Estella's inspiration," Fatty gave him a wry glance. "I just might mention that she is not terribly keen on the point just now, no offense intended, of course."

"None taken," Merry responded automatically, still staring at Fatty in bewilderment. "But in the name of all that's good, why her?"

"Quite frankly, that is a question that the entire clan Bolger is still trying to work their way around. But suffice it to say, your mother has decided upon my lovely sister. Possibly she feels that Estella is yet young and impressionable, and that she has nothing to fear in the way of resistance from her, or possibly she believes my parents to be so overwhelmed by the offer, that they will concede their daughter without a qualm. In either case, she is, almost laughably, very mistaken." Fatty's tone, as he spoke, was uncharacteristically serious, and he had even laid down his toast. "Quite honestly, Merry, I would rather walk on hot coals, or go without elevensies for a week running, being very nearly the same thing, rather than see my sister hurt on this score."

"Erm, well, Estella seems really quite decent, although I must admit I don't know her to speak of, but that would be the last thing I'd care to see, as well," Merry interposed hastily, but still appearing rather bewildered. "Be that as it may, she really isn't much more than a child, is she?"

"Oddly enough, old thing, while you and I have been getting on in years, she has been doing likewise," Fatty raised an eyebrow. "She's only a couple of years younger than you are, you know."

"Oh, well, I see," Merry fell silent, and stared unseeingly at the apple in his hand, still trying, obviously, to sort the whole thing through. "But how do you know all this?" he asked after a short silence, looking up at Frodo and then Fatty again. "Are you really quite sure?"

"You may have noticed," Fatty pointed out mildly, "that my father was part of the Bolger contingent. Traveling is not something he's fond of, and though he thinks your father is decent enough, my dear Merry, your mother rather puts him on edge. He would never have joined the party, trust me, except for the fact that his daughter's future is at stake, and he would never consider casting her to the wolves, metaphorically speaking, without giving the wolves a thorough look over first, and making his own judgment as to her chances of besting them, when needs be."

"So he's against it then?" Pippin suddenly spoke up, with an obvious glimmer of hope.

"Not necessarily," Fatty gave him a patient but sympathetic glance. "Only if Estella is. And I must add that she's being rather dismissive about even considering the idea at the moment. I don't think the notion of marrying anyone had ever popped into her head until this whole matter came up."

"Well, I'll just have to tell mother that the entire thing is preposterous, and I'll marry when I feel so inclined, and the other person involved will be not her affair at all," Merry gave a decisive nod, his chin rising at a stubborn tilt that both Frodo and Pippin immediately recognized.

"You know," Frodo pointed out quietly, after a moment's silence during which only Folco and Sam continued to eat breakfast as they watched the others with a fascinated objectivity. "You might not want to be quite that hasty, Merry."

"What do you mean by that, Frodo? Surely you don't think this is a good idea?" Merry glared at him and Pippin cast him a wounded look.

"Not what I meant, exactly; only you can make that choice," Frodo spoke calmly, but continued to regard Merry seriously. "However, what you might want to consider is this. Your mother, now that you are coming of age, will not let this matter rest. You know that as well as I. As do you, Pippin," he added, giving Pippin a stern glance that momentarily quelled the inevitable outburst from the rebellious tween. "Now, here, apparently, she has produced a candidate, and I might add a surprisingly good one at that. You know you could do far worse. But Estella will not be of age for, what is it, Fatty? Two more years? Surely it would be reasonable enough to wait until then before making any formal sort of commitment. That is, of course, if it would not be objectionable to Estella, either."

"Personally, I think she actually would be rather reasonable on that score," Fatty mentioned, with a rueful shake of the by-now quite empty pack. "As I have mentioned, getting married is not an event upon which she is particularly keen - appears to be rather a Bolger trait, seemingly - and postponing the question for a couple of years would be entirely agreeable to her as well, I daresay. My parents are quite decent about that sort of thing, but there are a few maiden aunts who have been out trawling hither and yon for suitable mates, and I'm most convinced Estella would just as soon not have to face any more of that lot."

"And perhaps you and Estella would find you had a lot in common, really," interposed Folco optimistically, only to be quickly disconcerted by the expressions on the rest of the party. "Just, possibly, I should think," he added lamely, and then rose hastily to check the fire again.

"It's more a matter of buying time," Frodo continued, glancing back at Merry with a sympathetic smile. "For the both of you, actually. I'm not saying that you should agree to your mother's proposition, Merry. What I am saying is that perhaps you should not merely dismiss it out of hand."

"Whatever course you and she may ultimately decide upon, there is plenty of time to manage it in a circumspect manner. It is really none of my, or anyone else's, concern. But," Fatty added with a sudden flash of fire in his eye, "I will not have Stella looked down upon as the lass who was dismissed without a second thought by the Master of Buckland. I can assure you, on the strongest of terms, that I will not stand for that."

"You will not have anything to worry about, on that score," Merry retorted quickly and proudly. "Very well. I will take all of this under consideration. And we may as well have second breakfast indoors, as civilized folk do. I don't think there is any more to be said on this matter, at this point in time."

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

It was thus not an unexpected occasion when Esme summoned her son into her private drawing room later that morning. "Well, there you are," she gave him a steady look from over the top of her teacup. "Don't be ridiculous. Have a seat," she added, gesturing toward the rather ornate chair on the far side of the room from the cheerful fire. "No need to stand, as if you were the foreman, or some sort of servant."

"Your father had other business this morning," she continued, the slightest edge of scorn creeping into her voice, "but rest assured, Meriadoc, that this matter has been thoroughly discussed between us. You will find him entirely on my side of it."

Thankful for the preview supplied by his friends, although he had never said as much to them, Merry coolly sat where indicated, and made no signs of curiosity or impatience.

Esme, a bit disappointed by this attitude, stood up regally and walked over to the velvet curtained window, staring at the snowy landscape outside. "You come of age tomorrow," she spoke abruptly, a bitter harshness in her words. "From this day on, you are considered to be your father's heir, and the future master of the Brandybuck holdings. You will be wealthy all your life, and will become, most likely, the most powerful hobbit in all the Shire, as has been your father before you. And in exchange for all of this privilege, you have had but one duty to carry out, and yet you have not done so."

"I find it impossible that I must, once more, remind you that it is your task to marry, and continue the line of your family," she had swung around now, to face her son, unable as well as unwilling to hide the anger in her expression. "Your years, thus far, have been fruitlessly wasted, in juvenile debauchery, and those whom you might have once chosen are no longer available. So since you seem ridiculously unwilling to make this choice, it appears that it is your parents who must do so for you."

Merry, hiding the fingers that dug tightly into the palms of his hands in his effort to remain calm, responded with an amazingly good semblance of polite interest, "That is very good of you and father, mother. Might I have the joy of asking whom you have chosen for me?"

Esme gave him a sharp look. "Satire doesn't suit you, Merry. You'd best leave that to Frodo. And as for your question, we have decided upon Estella Bolger. Her family has been approached, and does not appear to be loath to consider the proposition. Quite fortunately for you, I might add. The list of candidates is rather thin, especially considering the three Tooks are out of the question. The less you have to do with the Tooks, the better off we are, I should think."

"That was rather brilliant of you, mother, to choose the sister of one of my friends," Merry mentioned steadily. "I'm not too likely to summarily cast that choice aside, now, am I?"

Esme permitted herself a slight smile at his astute guess, and nearly imperceptibly, nodded her head in acknowledgement. "So am I to assume that we have agreement upon this matter?" she asked coolly.

"Well, there might be a few points that you have not considered," Merry rose, and walking over to the small table upon which his mother's tea things had been laid, idly ran a light finger around the rim of a dainty cup. "Estella does not come of age for two years yet, and apparently her family would prefer her to wait until that time. So it would not do, I should think, to enter into any sort of formal engagement at this time. There is much that can happen in a couple of years, and it's entirely possible that you might wish that you could revisit this selection before the two years are up. Surely her brother's activities have been brought to your attention, and I do not believe that the fruit falls all that far from the tree in that particular family." He gave a swift smile at her quickly hidden start.

"So, indeed, mother, I believe that we may have, shall we say, an understanding. I am perfectly willing to speak to Estella, and, if she is agreeable to the idea, informally connect ourselves for the next two years. At that point, we shall see." He started to walk toward the door, before his mother could attempt to regain control, but could not resist the last word as he turned back one last time to face her.

"And, mother? The idea of wealth and power, difficult as it is for you to accept, I know, are not the temptations you apparently believe them to be. Push me too far, and I swear to you that I will leave. And I shouldn't think that you would care to be in Bilbo Baggins' place." He left behind a speechless Esme, the cup dropping to the fine carpet from her suddenly nerveless hand.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

"Come along, love, I can't bear it a moment longer," Pearl exclaimed impatiently, stalking through the ice-covered garden. In summer, this was a lovely place, a fragrant bower of roses, lilies and peonies, but now it was just a tangle of ice-coated thorny sticks, and drifts of snow. "You've news for me, I can tell, but this place just makes me wild with its rules and expectations and hidden snares. How Pippin bears it, I'll never know, but maybe he doesn't see what I see. At any rate, I must be out or I shall scream."

Daisy gave a breathless laugh as she followed Pearl. Not that she had any choice in the matter, with her hand held so tightly in that of the other lass, but she never had resistance in mind. Instead, she scrambled behind until they found their way out of the formal garden and down the sloping banks that led to the Brandywine.

"Ah," Pearl sighed with relief, as they came upon a low bluff that overlooked the broad river. "This is more like, indeed. Look, the ice is starting to break up and the river will begin to flow freely again. Spring can't be that far off."

She found a broad rock, and dusted the snow lightly off, beckoning to Daisy. "Here we are, dearest, just the two of us again, and far from any prying eyes, I should think. Give me a kiss first, my dear, and tell me your news. Then I'll tell you mine."

She listened carefully as Daisy told her of her encounter that morning with Bracegirdle's young serving hobbit, her brow clouding over more and more as Daisy continued. "That swine," she hissed emphatically, as Daisy finished. "Wasn't it the same problem with that young lad who went on to marry your sister, the first Yule you spent at the Great Smials? But this is even worse, for I don't think the poor thing is even a tween yet. I don't care if that odious Bracegirdle owns his family's farm and half the county besides, there must be something that can be done to stop his preying on those under his thumb, for good."

"I tried to tell Sam too, but seemingly I must seek him out later, for he's off with the lads. I'm sure that he and Mr. Frodo will be thinkin' of something," Daisy added, with a confident nod.

"Perhaps, yes," Pearl replied, slightly hesitant. And when Daisy gave her a curious glance, she added, with just a bit of color rising in her cheeks, "Well, currently they are involved in another matter. That's my piece of news, of which I'll tell you in just a moment. But there's another reason they may not be able to help much in this case."

"Why ever not?" queried Daisy, baffled, and not getting Pearl's point at all.

"Because, my dearest, there still are many, mystifying as it is to me, who consider Frodo and your brother to be in a similar position. I know, my dear, it is absolutely impossible, " she added quickly, forestalling Daisy's protestation at the thought. "But there still are those small-minded hobbits who say Frodo beds his employee, and a much younger hobbit at that, and will not be open to admitting any other motive."

Daisy finally found her tongue then, giving a blunt and rather rude opinion of those who held such views.

"Exactly, my dear," Pearl couldn't help laughing at her assessment, "and so very true. Some folk, though, refuse to admit love as a reason for anyone's behavior, and must always see more practical gain as a motive. We know better, of course, as do all of Frodo and Sam's friends and relations. I suspect even Esme Brandybuck cannot deny the true nature of their relationship any longer, much as she pretends otherwise. But it is not right to expose them to that sort of slander one more time, when there may be other methods of putting an end to this."

Daisy was still looking distinctly stormy at the affront to her brother, so Pearl hastened to continue. "Despite the lady of the house's friendship with that scoundrel, there are many in Brandy Hall who cannot abide him, and I suspect there are those who may just be beginning to be of this opinion as well. Including one who may have knowledge of where his weaknesses lie. That is an avenue I'd like to try first. Fatty Bolger is not the only one who can think strategically. Oh, which brings me to my bit of news. Merry's mother is planning to marry him off to Fatty's sister, Estella."

"Fatty Bolger's sister?" Daisy couldn't help her jaw dropping open at this thought. "Now, if that ain't the most unlikely thing!"

"Exactly," Pearl grinned, just a trifle maliciously, at the idea. "I wonder if once, just once, Esme Brandybuck hasn't quite thought this thing through. This does promise to be fun, my dear, and how delightful to have front row seats."

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

It was well after elevensies, and quite nearly luncheon, when Pearl and Daisy finally found Estella. She was, as her brother might have guessed had he been asked, in the stable, perched on a hay bale in her pony Windy's stall. Her knees were drawn up to her chin, and her skirts and arms were tightly wrapped around her long legs when Pearl spotted her in the shadows. She watched them approach without a word, but Pearl gave her a casual greeting, obviously not expecting much of a reply, and set a flask and a homespun bag on the bale beside where she sat.

"Didn't see you at either breakfast," she remarked nonchalantly, "and when I didn't see you show up at elevensies, I thought I might take a look around. Nice stable, I must admit. Here, Daisy can keep you company for a bit. I want to go look after our ponies." And without waiting for a reply, she left for the far end of the stable from which the Took ponies were shortly heard to neigh a soft greeting and nicker amiably.

In the meantime, Estella examined Daisy carefully. "I don't know you," she pronounced firmly. "But you don't look much like the rest of the lot about this place."

"I guess not," Daisy gave a comfortable laugh. "You'd not know me, 'tis true, but your brother and mine are friends."

"Ah," commented Estella, with a bit more interest. "Well, the only one about him that I didn't much recognize would be the blond one I've seen with Frodo Baggins. He must be your brother; you both have the same look about you."

"Aye, that'd be him," Daisy nodded pleasantly. "Samwise Gamgee, an' I'd be Daisy Gamgee an' right pleased to meet you."

"Estella Bolger," the young lass responded with a sudden grin, extended a hand out to a rather startled Daisy.

"So now that we are all quite cozy, we can have a bit of a chat," Pearl appeared suddenly out of the gloom. "But first, be a dear and hand me that bag, would you, Stella?" As Estella complied, Pearl drew four plump gold streaked apples from its depths, and casually dropped it down again. "There's some food in there for you, but better yet, a treat for our friends," she smiled, tossing one of the apples to Estella. "For Windy, and I'll be back again in just a moment."

This time the whickering was distinctly more enthusiastic from the other end of the stable, but Pearl was as good as her word, and had returned just as Windy had finished off his treat.

"And now," Pearl stated, suddenly serious, as she sat herself cross-legged down on a bale, and Daisy followed her lead on another. "We must have a conference, we three."

Estella had the same indignant response, as Daisy told her tale once more, and angrily gave the dusty hay beneath her a pound with her fist. "What a villain!" she exclaimed vehemently. "I hate that sort of cruel bullying toad. Surely we can't let this go by!"

"I was hoping you'd feel like that," Pearl gave a satisfied nod, "because, you see, I was watching you last night, and you rather fit into my plan. However, there is one more conspirator whom we must approach. One who has a far better knowledge of the individuals concerned than do we, and whom, I hope, may end up playing a key role on all this. But quickly, my dears, we must catch her before her afternoon nap."

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

The fourth conspirator listened carefully, and with a dismissive harumph, declared, "I always thought there was something off about that hobbit. Esme thinks the world of him, but I must say her judgment can, at times, be a little less than sound, much as I hate to criticize. Well, then. A Bracegirdle he may be, but not the only one about, you know. And he does fancy himself a fair dab at cards but, my dears, really. So, then, here's what we shall do."

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

Not long after luncheon, a fine snow had begun to drift down, but that did not stop the messenger. She gave a quiet whisper into her pony's ear as she stealthily led him past the well-stuffed and dozing stable lads. "Hisst, now, love, I know you've been as bored as I, just waiting about. But now we've a task to complete, and it will take some fine work on your part, my pet. It's for a good cause, and there's the open road before us, so off we go, my brave one."

The grey pony whickered so softly that only she could hear, and tossed his head just the slightest bit. But soon as they were free of the stables, he lowered his head purposefully and they were off into the darkening misty afternoon, the drifting flakes quickly hiding any trace of hoof prints.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

Merry had taken the afternoon to work out the best way to present his proposal to Estella; his friends and even a reluctant Pippin leaving him carefully to himself, but when he went to find her, just before teatime, she was nowhere to be found. Pearl Took had made a rather vague comment about going off on some sort of errand, and neither her parents nor her brother seemed overly concerned.

It was that information with which he had to content himself for the time being, and he resolved to seek her out at dinner, if she showed up then. He wasn't, he had to admit to himself, entirely distraught regarding having to postpone this meeting for now. With a relieved sense of having done all that could be done, at least for the moment, he set off to find Pippin.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

Palentine settled back on the bed with a hearty groan. "Damme, but the old girl does know how to set a table," he declared to his wife with a grin. "You've got to admit, Lana my dear, there are some compensations to making my sister a visit."

Eglantine gave her husband a fond smile as she stood by the side of the bed in their spacious and comfortable guestroom, braiding up her long greying hair in preparation for bed. "It's that cook of hers, dearest. You can hardly imagine Esme does any of it herself. Perhaps you could persuade her to change residence?"

"Not a hope in the world," he gave a tragic sigh, as his wife comfortably settled herself at his side by the glow of the well-banked fire. "She's been with Saradoc since he was a wee thing, and is distressingly loyal. I can't pretend I haven't already tested her on that score. Well, tomorrow promises to be a fair blow-out, what with it being Merry's birthday and all, so we'd best get our rest."

"Mmm," sleepily agreed his wife, tucking herself closer into his embrace, and in no time at all, there was no sound to be heard in the darkening room but the occasional muted snap of the dying embers.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

"Are you nervous about the morrow?" Daisy asked curiously, as she met Pearl's eyes in the mirror. She was carefully brushing out Pearl's reddish hair, because it did have a tendency to tangle so, but she stopped for the moment, awaiting an answer.

Pearl smiled slowly back at her, her grey eyes frankly catching Daisy's concerned gaze. "A little," she admitted. "If I'm not good enough, the whole plot falls apart, and I'm not sure what we would do then. But Delphinium is certainly skillful, and far more cunning than I had imagined. And she clearly has a soft spot for Estella, which might turn out to be a very good thing for her, in case she actually does end up marrying Merry."

"But," she continued, her smile widening as she reached up and caught Daisy's hand. "Enough of this. Let my hair do what it will, love, since it's bound to anyway, and let's find something better to do. It's unmistakably frosty tonight, but I know where it's warm."

"In bed?" laughed Daisy, as she helped Pearl lift her own homespun chemise up over her shoulders.

"Oh, certainly, there too," Pearl purred, with a sly grin. "But not just only there. Let me show you."

And since Daisy was not at all inclined to disagree to this request, the candle was quickly snuffed, and both lasses dived under the coverlet with alacrity.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

Delphinium Brandybuck methodically applied the curling tongs to her grey bangs, always her last step before retiring, but her mind was unusually active this cold night. It had been an undeniably interesting past few days, and tomorrow promised to be stimulating indeed. She had found, to her amazement, that she quite enjoyed having young lasses about the Hall. It was amazingly invigorating, she thought with satisfaction, to have some lively young minds about her for a change.

And if rumor proved to be true, she realized thoughtfully, as she removed the warming pan from the bed and slid under the heavy bedclothes, Estella Bolger would be around the Hall on a permanent basis. She found that she quite approved of this notion. The lass would do Merry a world of good, no doubt of that, if the lad had the good sense and great fortune to land her. In addition, she did not at all appear to be the type of lass who was easily quelled, and with Esme Brandybuck as a mother-in-law, that was a significant factor.

Esme meant the best, she told herself complacently, as she drifted off to sleep, but Brandy Hall could definitely do with a bit of fresh air.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

Saradoc gave his wife's door a polite rap before opening it slightly. "I did not notice the bride to be at dinner tonight," he mentioned mildly, as he stood in her doorway.

His wife, seated before a large ornate mirror, was dabbing her face with some sort of mysterious cream. She turned, at his entrance, and gave him a cold glance. "Her mother advised me that she was somewhat under the weather," she informed her husband briefly. "She ought to be up by tomorrow."

"Hmm," Saradoc received this news thoughtfully. He started to leave, but then turned back, with the ghost of a smile on his face. "Having second thoughts, Esme?" he inquired softly. "Don't get another shot at this sort of thing, you know."

"Doesn't matter much now, does it?" Esme snapped, dropping the cloth in her hand on the table before her. "After all, her family has been consulted, and the proposal is public by now, I should imagine. Unless she or Merry decline, it's a given proposition."

"And Merry?" he studied her face carefully. "Will he decline? You have spoken to him, then?"

"And who else would?" The scorn in her eyes was not hidden as she stood and faced him. "Yes, he agreed to ask her. But that will be rather tricky if the silly goose has decided to run away. She is not the ideal candidate, I give you that. But there are not many to choose from, Saradoc. At least she is young and, I expect, should prove to be biddable."

"Well, if anyone will be able to train her in her duties as Mistress of Brandy Hall, Esme, it would be you." Saradoc studied her a moment longer in the candlelight, the expression in his face softening slightly as he did so. "Not an easy position, is it, Esme?"

She said nothing, her eyes falling to the ground, but her husband could see the drawn lines about her eyes that no cream could remove.

"Well, old girl, tomorrow comes all too fast," he murmured, but before she could raise her eyes again, he was gone.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

Bracegirdle lay heavily in his bed, snoring lustily. Dinner had been especially fine this evening, and he had indulged himself heartily. So heartily, in fact, that he had had no mind for any other pleasure, and made straight for his bed upon reaching his room.

In the small attached parlor, Tom spread out the woven mat that served him as a bed. Tucking himself under the one small blanket which he had been allotted, he lay, shivering slightly, but thankful that the evening had been, for him, uneventful.

As he finally began to warm up his bed, he drowsily considered, once again, the words of the kindly lass who had spoken to him that morning. Daisy, wasn't it? And something that began with a "G". He briefly wondered what she had meant, but it had been a long day, and before long, he was asleep, dreaming of his family's farm and the ripening green oats swaying in the spring breeze, and his smiling mother standing in the doorway, her arms open in welcome.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

"So what is that child up to, anyway?" rumbled Odo Bolger, standing before the window, and gazing out into the darkened snow-swept night. "And how can a hobbit get a decent night's sleep with this glass nonsense in their room? Not like a proper hole, indeed, it isn't."

Rosa gave a brief laugh and walked up behind him, wrapping her arms around his comfortably expanded waist, and resting her chin on his broad shoulder. "I suppose we are the old-fashion sort, Odo love," she agreed. "It does strike me as odd as well, but look," she pointed to the side of the window. "There are curtains, you see, so we can pretend we are snugly underground, at least. And as for our daughter, well, she didn't really tell me much. Only that she'd be back by luncheon tomorrow. I suppose she's gone back to Budgeford, and will tell us all about it when she gets back. You know Stella, my dear, words are useless to her when there's action to be taken. The opposite of her brother, of course. I used to think as that lad was all words."

Odo chuckled as he swept her against his side. "That and eating, my dear. But he's given us a surprise or two these past few years, now, hasn't he?"

"Stars above, he has indeed," she laughed comfortably, reaching out to draw the curtains. "Well, I expect they are fast growing up, as fauntlings always do."

Odo gave her a fond kiss, but then stopped suddenly and became quite serious. "About Stella, now. Do you think they would treat her right, here, Rosa? I would hate worse than anything for her to not be happy."

Rosa raised an eyebrow at this. "Can you imagine, my dear, our Estella ever agreeing to anything she has not thoroughly thought out? Nothing is to be decided for good yet, anyway. By the time she says yes, if she says yes, you can be quite sure that she will have good cause. And I believe that Esme Brandybuck would have her hands a little fuller than she imagines."

"But for now, Odo dear," she drew him away from the window with a merry grin. "Let us try out this magnificent bed. Who knows? We may never have reason to sample one of the Master of Buckland's fine feather beds again, and I would hate to say no to that experience."

Odo Bolger gave a wide smile at that reasoning, and snatched her unceremoniously up into the air. "Very well, my fine plump partridge," he murmured throatily. "Shall we see which is softer? That downy bed, or you?"

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

Pippin pushed Merry unceremoniously to the side, once they had finally entered their haven, and rapidly bolted the door. Then his grip was tight on Merry's shoulders, his lean body pressed Merry roughly to the door, and his mouth was fiercely and unceremoniously on Merry's. Merry closed his eyes, and returned Pippin's kiss with equal intensity, his own hands sweeping to Pippin's waist and holding him impossibly close. There seemed to be no sating Pippin though, as he pushed even closer and continued to hungrily claim Merry's mouth for his own. But it wasn't until Merry suddenly realized that the odd sound he was hearing was Pippin's jagged sobs that he finally gently drew back, and stared into Pippin's shadowed face. The only light in the room was through a bare window on the far side, as well as the candle in its holder which he had placed on a small table as he entered, but the moon was hidden in cloud and the candle was guttering. Even so, he could see the streaks of tears on Pippin's face, and his heart went out to him.

"Hush, my dear, this isn't about me not being a tween anymore after tonight, now, is it?" he asked softly, reaching up to wipe the tears from Pippin's cheek.

"I suppose," Pippin admitted, with a sharp gulp. "But not just."

"Tell me then," Merry murmured, leading him unresistingly to the pile of odd cushions and blankets that served them as a bed in their retreat. "Out with it, my lad." He drew Pippin down into the nest of bedclothes just as the candle finally guttered out. But the moon had managed to slip momentarily out from the clouds, and Pippin's face was lit in a pale light, the tracks of his tears glinting silver.

"I don't know, sometimes, I just don't know," Pippin faltered, sitting down with his legs drawn under him and looking down at his hands, and not at Merry's face.

"What don't you know, love?" Merry urged him quietly as he sat beside him, an arm around the tween's thin shoulders.

Pippin was silent for a few moments then, staring at his hands as he unconsciously twisted them in his lap. "If that's what I really am," he whispered at last.

Merry stared at him, mystified, until Pippin raised his eyes to his. "Your love, I mean," he breathed.

Merry opened his mouth to protest, but Pippin was quicker, laying an insistent finger on it. "No, not yet. I must have this out. Am I your love because Frodo wouldn't have you? Am I your love until your mother finally marries you off? Am I your love whom you'll remember fondly when you think of your youth? Is that who I am, Merry?"

Merry looked at him with a slowly emerging understanding written on his face. "You're none of those things, Pip," he said at last, quite deliberately. "You are my love, my dearest Peregrin, because you make me happy, like no one else can. You are my love," he continued, brushing Pippin's wayward curls behind an angled ear tip with a tender hand, "because I want to spend my life with you at my side. And I at yours, for that matter. You are my love because you have the gift of lightness that I need, but there's a depth behind it, too. In short, my dearest Pip, you are my love because I love you, and I can't imagine ever not loving you, not as long as I live."

Pippin had not said a word as Merry spoke, but his eyes had never left those of Merry. "Oh, Merry, I've been so afraid." His voice was low but with only the slightest quaver, as he raised his hand to Merry's shoulder. "Sometimes I think that I've always been second best, and you could have done better. I'm not always terribly practical, or even mature, and you always are. There are even times when I feel like the tag-along fauntling, always trying to catch up with all the rest of you. But I do love you so, Merry, as hard as I know how, and I have never dreamt of anyone but you."

"Pippin. Listen to me now." Merry's voice was stern as Pippin's came to an abrupt stop. "You must put this out of your head. I was infatuated with Frodo once, yes, I will admit to that. And quite possibly I thought I was in love. But I wasn't. Not by miles. But it wasn't until I fell in love with you, with your wonderfully impossible, bewitching and utterly marvelous self, that I truly knew that. Things will be changing for both of us, for me sooner than you, but for both of us eventually. But what I feel about you will never change. Trust me, Pip, my beloved Pip. As I trust in you. Anyone I marry will have to accommodate you, or I simply won't marry. That's really all there is to that. And at any rate, if Estella will go along with this arrangement, we've really just put off any decision for a couple of years, and both of us can back out when and if we will."

"What did she say?" Pippin asked in a small voice and a last sniffle, unable to hold back his curiosity on this point.

"Well, she didn't," Merry frowned. "Apparently she's gone missing. Getting cold feet, possibly. Can't say as I blame her. Anyway, either Fatty will locate her, or mother will have to come up with a new candidate. But it doesn't matter, Pip. You are what matters and what always will. Come here, love. We've got tonight to ourselves, before I'm suddenly stricken ancient tomorrow, and I mean to make the best of it."

With that, he set to work on the buttons of Pippin's fine linen shirt, interposed with kisses to the pale flesh as he exposed it, and Pippin sighed gratefully as he fell back against the cushions. His heart sang within him once again, and even though the clouds slid in front of the moon once more, leaving the room quite dark again, he did not need any moonlight to assist him in finding his way around the strong and beguiling body of his beloved Merry.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

Fatty gave the bed in his room a rueful glance. It would do for a solitary guest, he supposed, but he was optimistic that would not be his state for long. Possibly Merry might be able to spare the time tomorrow to investigate the possibilities of a larger bed to be had. Whistling a cheerful tune to himself, he began to prepare himself to retire. These family occasions could be quite entertaining, in their way, and the next day promised to be a quite out of the ordinary one.

A soft knock on the door interrupted him for the moment, but it proved to be a blushing kitchen lass with a basket and flask that she promptly delivered, compliments of Cook. Fatty found that he quite approved, as he opened it up, for the half dozen teacakes, slices of well-buttered nut bread, small wedge of sharp cheese, and diminutive jar of preserved peaches was just the thing to wash down with a bit of tea. Once again, he paid silent tribute to the captain of Brandy Hall's kitchen, who obviously felt that no hobbit should go to bed feeling peckish. A jewel among hobbits, indeed.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

Folco fell asleep almost immediately, as was his custom. He wasn't entirely sure of the proposed outcome of tomorrow's events, but there was no point, in his mind, to unproductive fretting over the unpredictable reactions of those about him. The bed was quite comfortable, there was no odd noise to distract him, and the chimney to the small fireplace in his room drew in quite a satisfactory way. Drowsily, he suddenly remembered the sitting room window. There had been a slight gap on the left-hand side between one of the panes and the frame, which let in just the smallest amount of cold air. He would have to find a chance tomorrow to draw Merry aside and let him know. Filled with the satisfaction of a good deed almost nearly done, he was soon dreaming of Iris and the extremely efficient smial they would have together.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

It was very nearly a look of suspicion that Sam gave Frodo once they were alone in his small tower room. Sam had been unbuttoning his weskit, while Frodo was busily wedging the chest and a small table against the bed to ensure that it did not unceremoniously dump the both of them again this night, when he remembered the whispered conversation between Merry and Pippin which he had just caught the tail of, earlier that morning.

"Did you do summat to set Merry off this morning?" he casually asked, keeping a close eye on Frodo's profile, which was currently turned in his direction.

"Oh, possibly. Tell me, Sam, do you think we could jam the back of that chair under the side of the bed? No, that would make it all uneven, wouldn't it," he continued, answering his own question and, stopping his labors, resting his hands on his hips with a frown. "Wouldn't answer to the health of the chair if we did that, either. And I really wouldn't want to be responsible to Aunt Esme for reducing her furniture to kindling, either. She always seems to have plenty of grievances, but I'd hate to give her a legitimate one."

Sam, however, was more than familiar with Frodo's avoidance tactics, when there was a question he did not wish to answer, and refused to be distracted as to the matter of the furniture. "Flummoxed, seems t'me he said," he stubbornly continued, tidily folding the weskit and lying it on the chair in question, one of the few furnishings Frodo had not yet appropriated. "That'd take a bit o'doing, and no mistake."

"Well, Merry can be so set about things, at times." Frodo replied evasively, still not looking in Sam's direction. "Are you sure we aren't going to want that chair, my love?"

"You'd not be answering the point, m'dear," Sam mentioned mildly, beginning on his shirt buttons.

"But you haven't answered mine," Frodo began, and then stopped what he was doing, and sitting heavily on the corner of the bed that was still accessible, looked up at Sam with the barest quirk of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Oh, very well. I did throw him off balance a trifle, because sometimes I think that Merry needs that. He occasionally makes up his mind about a person, like you for that matter, before he's had a chance to get to know them, and I just wanted to be sure that he didn't do that with Estella. Estella, I have a feeling, will be utterly perfect for him, but he'll never agree to her if it's simply his mother's idea. But she is Fatty's sister, after all, and I shouldn't wonder if by the end of this visit we may see her true colors a little more clearly. And I suspect that Merry will be feeling a little more positive about her, and his mother a little less so, and that's entirely to the good. In addition, I might just have pushed Pippin and him into discussing their future. Possibly I'm an interfering busybody, but Merry really does need his friends to show him the other side of things, sometimes, and it's so much easier when he's a bit jumbled up, so to speak. And now, my dear, are you ever going to get that shirt off?"

As that seemed to be all the answer he was going to receive to his query, Sam gave a mental shrug, and finished off the shirt in a thrice. But Frodo was nearly as quick, and only moments later, they were both quite bare, and on top of the fortified bed. "Interfering busybody, is it?" Sam chuckled as he lay on his back quite thoroughly covered by Frodo. "Still watching out for all of us, aren't you, m'dear?"

"Mmmm," was Frodo's incoherent reply. He halted his exploration of the side of Sam's neck for the moment, and murmured, "Well, I'm the oldest, you know. Hate to see anyone's life go off track if there's anything I can do to prevent a wreck."

"Ah," Sam groaned, as Frodo's tongue hit an especially promising spot. "And then who's to watch over you, Frodo-love?" His knees had risen on either side of Frodo by now, and if he could only get Frodo aligned just a trifle more to the right…

"Oh, you of course, my dearest lad," Frodo raised himself up slightly and groped, by the fleeting moonlight, for something near the top of the bed. "As if I'd ever want for looking after, Sam. How perfectly impossible. That's one thing you'll make sure I'll never lack for, I'm quite certain of that. Ah, and here it is!" He produced a small ramekin from the pile of his clothing with a flourish and a grin. "This time I remembered."

"Aye, an' I as well," Sam laughed in delight. "May as well be savin' mine for later. Let's see how the bed lasts this time, me dearie."

Not long after, there was another screech of wood, and a muffled crash from the tower room in Brandy Hall, but none of the other residents, not even those only a little further down the hallway, were awake to hear it.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

Moonlight came and went during the long dark night, and drifts of snow continued to blow intermittently across the road, but both pony and rider refused to be halted. "Almost there, my brave one," she whispered in the grey pony's ear, "and there will be a warm stable and plenty of hay for you, and even an apple, I should imagine. It's a long road back again tomorrow, as well, but it's for a good cause. And it certainly can't be any worse than sitting around an over-heated drawing room being examined like the newest pouter hen, so on, my dear. None will ever think of looking for us this way."

The pony gave his head the slightest toss in response, but went back to eating up the miles with a long easy stride, and his rider continued to search for the landmarks that she had been given as best she could, in the murky night.


	4. Chapter 4

Conversations about the table as guests came and went for second breakfast, the next morning at Brandy Hall, had the somnolent and slightly muffled tone that was not unusual for a large group of gentlehobbits who had dined perhaps a little too well the previous night, and from which not much was expected until later that evening. But below the mundane surface, there were the slightest of indications that this was not an ordinary morning at all, and the rest of the day promised to be even less so.

Merry, in particular, was closed off and uncommunicative when he showed up at last, an equally taciturn Pippin in tow. He found a seat next to Frodo, who had claimed, along with Sam, a more secluded small table in one of the back corners of the immense dining hall, and summarily plopped himself down without much in the way of greetings. Reaching for a piece of buttered toast while simultaneously pouring himself a cup of tea, he began to absentmindedly munch on it as he moodily surveyed the room. Pippin, following his lead on the toast, began to carefully cover his with blackberry jam in a particularly painstaking manner, but gave the room a stealthy occasional glance as well. Frodo and Sam, comfortably filling up the corners at this point with, respectively, some preserved peaches and a fine strip of well-streaked bacon, exchanged quick glances, but waited, patiently and prudently silent, for Merry to instigate the conversation.

"Father said that he wanted to see me after breakfast, so I don't expect I'll be around much this morning," Merry finally muttered, still not glancing at any of his breakfast companions. "You haven't seen Estella this morning, have you? I suppose I ought to say something to her, although I'm not entirely sure what, at the moment. Can't exactly go about ignoring my supposed bride-to-be, at any rate."

Sam and Frodo gave each other another quick look, and Frodo then spoke up. "Fatty knows where she is, but he's not around at the moment, I'm afraid. He mentioned something about her being off on an errand, I believe, but he did especially want to be sure that we were all around after luncheon."

"Doesn't appear as if there will be a good many alternatives," Merry commented gloomily, standing up and giving his last piece of toast a rather ferocious bite. "May as well have it over with, then."

"Happy birthday, Merry," Frodo commented quietly, as Merry left the rest of his toast unfinished on his plate. "And the best of the day to you."

"I suppose that remains to be seen, now, doesn't it?" Merry snapped, and with nearly a glare, he left.

The rest of the meal was finished quickly, and in near silence. "Come with us, Pippin," Frodo invited his cousin softly, as he stood, brushing the last crumbs from his hands onto the linen napkin.

Pippin gave him an irritated look, and turned back to face the room. "No, I don't believe I shall," he retorted, sharply.

"Don't be ridiculous," Frodo mildly answered. "Merry will be tied up a good long time, and what are you going to do? Fatty is nowhere to be seen, Folco is quite engaged in some sort of debate regarding the weight-bearing capabilities of the spring-loaded hay wagon with Great-Uncle Umbert, and that leaves the company of your sisters. Surely we can't be that bad."

"A bit o'fresh air outdoors would do us all some good, mayhap," Sam suggested diffidently, when Pippin did not respond, as he stood up as well.

"Oh, very well," Pippin conceded, still trying his best to remain cross. "I may as well go out with the both of you, I suppose. This place always does give me a headache, anyhow."

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

It was a silent trio of hobbits who found their way out of the back entrance of Brandy Hall, through the white enshrouded kitchen garden, and on the well-trod snow that covered the pathway back to the stables and beyond. Frodo, who still knew every least path through this part of Buckland far better than Pippin ever had, led the way with assurance and with one of Sam's hands firmly laced through his. They passed the stables, now alive with the morning feeding and brushing, for the stable lads of Brandy Hall wished the ponies of the guests of their Master to want for nothing during their stay, and continued up the hill that overlooked the Brandywine River. The path was shortly lost beneath the untouched drifts of snow, but Frodo stamped his way through them with confidence, and soon they were heading down toward the river bank.

It had been an unusually cold winter, and even this close to spring, the water near the banks was still frozen, with only the center of the great river yet flowing freely. The fitful sun had been strong enough, however, to clear off and dry a few of the flat rocks that lay at the water's edge, and it was for them that Frodo made his way.

"So you are still irritated with me," Frodo spoke quietly, as he and Sam found a seat on one large stone, and Pippin found his on another, quite pointedly staring at the river rather than facing them.

"I shouldn't wonder whether Sam wouldn't have been as well, had he been there too," Pippin said sharply and recklessly. He gave Sam a very quick and almost hidden glance, but Sam showed no sign of curiosity at his statement.

"Sam knows what he means to me," Frodo replied evenly and with absolute conviction. "He never has, and never will, have cause to doubt that." Unseen by Pippin, his hand closed around Sam's a little tighter, but Sam answered back with a quick squeeze, and a warm smile.

"Then what was that whole scene for?" Pippin burst out in frustration. "I'm sure you've never kissed Merry like that before. Were you just doing it to tease him? He has so much to worry about right now, and that didn't help at all."

Frodo let Pippin finish, and lapse into a sulky silence before he responded. "Think, Pip," he said firmly. "What if I had been Merry's wife? Don't you realize that that is something you need to be able to witness, and not give in to jealousy? As will Merry, in his time, as well?"

"You are aware that Merry can not postpone marriage that much longer," he continued quietly but relentlessly, as Pippin gave him a stricken look. "Surely, you should hope that Merry would find a wife whom he can view as a friend, someone whom he is fond of. He will always love you best, Pip, I have no doubt, but that doesn't mean that he must hate her in order to prove that."

Pippin continued to stare stonily at him, unspeaking, but Frodo continued, giving his cousin a slight but understanding smile. "You know that I love Sam more than I can ever explain, Pip. And you know that Merry loves you in the same way. Trust in your heart, Pip, and trust in Merry's. Never doubt your love, and it will remain strong. And if you have that, you can see anything through."

Pippin gulped, and ducked his head down with a stifled sob, but Frodo reached an arm out to him. Pippin found, as he stumbled over to the both of them, that there was just enough room on the stone for him to fit between Frodo and Sam, and he fell into their embrace, letting the tears wash away his anxious fears of what was to come. Frodo was quite right, of course, he thought dimly, with no surprise at all. The rest would fall into place somehow. Merry's love was his, and not much else really mattered, compared to that.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

Pearl held the cards in her hand a trifle awkwardly, and gave them an experimental shuffle, as Delphinium Brandybuck looked on with remarkable forbearance. "Not too bad, my dear," she pronounced, with a tolerant smile. "Best to let me do that when the time comes, though, I should think."

"Oh, but of course," Pearl hastily agreed, gathering up the few errant cards that had escaped to the sides. "Except, you know," she suddenly looked up at the elder gentlehobbit, "unless a certain show of inexperience might prove to our advantage."

"Excellent," purred Delphinium at that suggestion, flashing a brief vulpine smile that would have severely startled her more customary companions. "I do admire the way you think, my dear. But, of course," she added, giving the room and its contents a searching glance, "our fun will be quite spoiled if that remarkable young Bolger lad does not do his part. And that would entirely put me out, I assure you, for this afternoon promises to be most amusing. Oh, to be sure, my dear, it is entirely for the best of causes as well," she hastily added, as Pearl gave her a rather stern glance. "Still, you must indulge me, for this sort of excitement is making me feel positively giddy. Brandy Hall, if truth must be told, can be frightfully dull at times."

"Now look sharp, lass," she squared her shoulders, draped in a shawl of the most fervent pink against the draughts that managed to get through the multi-paned windows, and was suddenly all business again. "You may have to play several hands with me, and you must be able to hold your own if needs be. Let us review the closing tricks once more, and mind how you hold your cards, my dear. There is no surer sign of an amateur, and although the suggestion of inexperience might indeed prove to our advantage, actual inexperience would not."

Daisy, who had been quietly watching to the side, suddenly found herself besieged by the newly arrived younger Took daughters, stunned at this unusual sight. Confident that Daisy could explain this mystery, since they had taken to considering her an auxiliary elder sister, they drew her aside for a consultation, and soon were heard to be stifling squeaks of merriment. There was no question but that they planned on being immovable residents of the great hall that afternoon, and Pervinca's customary book lay on a far table, completely forgotten.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

Bracegirdle stifled a yawn as he stood with a group of older gentlehobbits in the stable, while they admired the ponies that the Bolger fellow had brought along. The Thain seemed particularly taken with them, so he thought it best to show a certain amount of enthusiasm, but what they all found so interesting about those stolid smelly beasts was more than he cared to understand. Well, there should be luncheon, soon enough, and then if he could manage to ferret out that infernal boy of his, there might be some private pleasure to be had before he had to suffer the company of this lot again. He sensed that neither Took nor either one of the Bolgers present seemed to be giving him his full due as one of the more wealthy and influential gentlehobbit of these parts, and as a matter of fact, he had caught out of the corner of his eye that ungainly Bolger lad giving him some deucedly odd looks.

At last the interminable discussion appeared to be well and truly finished, and the party made their way back through the drifts, along the sanded path, to Brandy Hall again. He certainly hoped that they had all done their duty as far as any outdoors matters went, and might now settle by the fireside, in the Brandybucks' spacious great hall, and possibly play a hand or two of cards after the meal. He knew he could count on Esme Brandybuck to be his partner, as usual, and mildly wondered whether the Thain or Odo Bolger might possibly have it in either of them to provide a bit of a challenge. Most likely not; he had found that interest in the more mundanely practical affairs of the gentry usually precluded an interest in cards. There was always the elderly Brandybuck creature who was usually to be found here, if needs be. She wasn't half bad, he had to grudgingly concede to himself, but she never seemed to have a suitable partner.

But all thoughts of cards left his head once they reached the entrance of the Hall, for the aroma of luncheon being prepared, which came wafting over the kitchen garden's wall, drove all other thoughts from his head for the moment. He happened to catch the gaze of the young Bolger lad, and for one brief moment, their thoughts were as one. Brandy Hall's Cook was an absolute nonpareil, there could be no doubt on that score. But their mute accord lasted only a second before there was a naked flash of anger and resolve from the younger hobbit's eyes. Bracegirdle was momentarily startled, but the look was gone as soon as it came, and he wasn't entirely sure whether he had seen it at all, since Bolger's face now showed nothing but its normal half-lidded expression of ennui. Odd, indeed, since he hardly knew the lad to speak of. Sometimes, there was no accounting for these striplings.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

Frodo allowed himself to walk ahead of the other two as they returned to the Hall, since the morning chill was proving to be sufficient inducement to return to a warm room with a blazing fire. Pippin did appear to be mollified, but just in case there were still a few ruffled feathers, Sam was just the hobbit to unruffled them, he thought sagely. It was quite nearly impossible to ever stay angry with the irresistible force of sunny good nature that was Sam, and indeed, he could not think of a single instance in which he had ever tried to do so.

Fondly, he listened to the sound of Sam's soothing voice, although the words themselves were indistinguishable, and considered the option of he and Sam making a quick return to their room before luncheon. Most likely insufficient time, he conceded to himself reluctantly, since that was the sort of thing he hated to rush through. Sam's sentiments on the matter were the same, he well knew. And Fatty had been oddly insistent about the both of them being in the great room of Brandy Hall around luncheon. Then perhaps later that afternoon, he idly mused. Everyone did seem to wander off their own way before dinner. Settling the matter in his mind, he caught the whiff of something delicious in the air. Brandy Hall was obviously just past the last frost-frozen hedge.

Sam, in the meantime, had been walking with Pippin, a comforting arm over the younger hobbit's shoulders. "Doesn't seem fair, some times," Pippin muttered, with a furtive sniff. "The both of you are downright lucky, not to have to worry about position or family."

"Aye, no mistake," Sam instantly agreed. Lowering his voice just a bit, with a quick glance ahead toward Frodo's back, he confided, "Truth to tell, after Mr. Bilbo left, the only two of his family whose good opinion really mattered to Frodo would be you and Merry. He would have been hurt to the quick had either of you thought the worse of us. 'Course," he continued with a small smile, "Merry did take a bit of comin' around, but that he did, and mighty glad I was o'it."

"And what of your family, Sam," Pippin asked curiously, seizing the rare opportunity to open Sam up on such a subject. "What did they think of it?"

"Ah, you'd ha'been such a young lad back then," Sam shook his head, his expression sobering at the remembrance, "I'd be forgetting you might not have known. But the gaffer did not like the idea one bit, and tried to put his foot down against it. Daisy was na much better, point o'fact. Both o'them afraid of me gettin' the poor end of it, more'n anything else. Mari, now she thought it was just fine, but then she was in love herself. 'Twas May as surprised me most of all. That lass stood up a fine gentlehobbit, and a rich one too, for our sake."

Glancing up he realized they were nearly to the Hall. "But that'd all be behind us now, and I've no doubt that the rest of our lives will be naught but comfortable and peaceful. 'Tis all I'd ever hope for, anyroad. And you and Merry, long as you stand firm on what matters, you can fit the rest of your lives around that likewise, if you catch my meaning."

"Sam, you are a dear," Pippin gave the startled Sam a quick squeeze, his face clearing back to its normal cheerful expression. "I'm awfully glad you decided to keep Frodo around, after all the bother he must have been." And with a quick laugh, he pulled Sam ahead to catch up with Frodo.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

As was customary upon the coming of age of the heir to the Buckland estate, Saradoc Brandybuck had spent the morning reviewing the estate's papers and agreements with his son. Not that he expected Merry to be taking over his position any time soon, but it was well to be prepared. The map of Buckland had been spread out, and Merry was surprised as to the myriad of details regarding the various tenant farmers and subsidiary landholdings, with which he had not been familiar. The Brandybuck lands had grown slowly and piecemeal over the course of centuries, and it seemed as though every individual family had their own special arrangement with the Master of Brandy Hall. And it would never do, Saradoc warned his son, with only the slightest twinkle in his eye, to confuse one with another. "Take Farmer Maggot," he drew on his pipe, and then tapped the stem lightly on the southern portion of Buckland. "A worthy farmer indeed, and stalwart in our defense of the lands to the south. Not unknown to have all manner of strange ruffians in those parts, on occasion. A master of his own lands, Maggot is, and a good friend in times of trouble. The wheat he sends our way these days is more of a token than anything else, and I'd be just as content if he'd only send us the occasional crate of those excellent mushrooms that one finds there."

Seeing Merry's expression at this assessment, he gave a short bark of a laugh. "I see Frodo still spreads wild tales about the poor chap. You must remember, Merry, that your cousin was a feckless scamp when he was young, even before he lost his parents. Drogo bent my ears, as to how he had his hands full, more than once. It can't be wondered if Farmer Maggot occasionally had to be stern with the lad. You know," he added softly, giving Merry an attentive glance, "your mother's occasional, hmm, exasperation with Frodo is not entirely baseless. When he first came here as a teen, he was quite troubled, and very willful. And from the moment you could toddle, you followed him as if he were the moon and the stars. No, indeed, she did not have an easy time with the both of you."

"But things change," his tone suddenly sharpened, and he turned to roll up the vellum map, returning it to its leather sheath. "Is Estella Bolger to be your intended, then?"

"Well, possibly, that is if she doesn't mind," Merry stammered, caught off guard and jerking his head up in surprise.

"Haven't asked her yet?" Saradoc frowned, carefully restoring the case to the proper cubicle. "Stars above, son, the whole farthing seems to know of it. I'd suggest that she isn't the last to know."

"Actually, I assume that she does," Merry replied, still flustered, and grasping his hands behind his back. "It's just that she seems to have gone missing for the moment, although Fatty appears to be confident that she'll be back this afternoon. I really do plan on asking her to consider it, Father," he added carefully, "but she isn't of age for another couple of years. She may not want to give it final consideration until then."

"Ah, playing for time?" Saradoc raised an eyebrow. "Well, my son, perhaps that is wise. After all, you hardly know each other yet. But I'd suggest that you not give her reason to have any doubts as to the prospect you are offering her. The little I've seen of her suggests that you would have difficulty on improving your choice, and the fact that she is a Bolger speaks volumes, I need not tell you. I still cannot believe that it was actually your mother's suggestion. Quite frankly, Meriadoc, you'd best not let this one escape."

"I'll speak with her as soon as I see her, Father," Merry gulped. He hated feeling as if he was being coerced into something, but it was becoming increasingly clear that this was probably one of his better options, despite the fact that it had originated with his mother. If only Pip could be made to see this as well, he thought grimly, with a sudden sinking in his heart.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

Luncheon had been served and consumed with delight, having been considered by one and all as a triumphant opening salvo to the spectacular event that would be the birthday dinner later that evening, when Delphinium Brandybuck rose to her feet, a glass of sweet wine held tightly in one gnarled hand, and caught Fatty Bolger's eye. Turning to make her regal way in the direction of the central fireplace, she glanced back over her shoulder and imperially requested his assistance in moving a large table over to that position as well as a sturdy chair or two. "I find that these afternoons tend to drag a bit after such a hearty meal, do they not, my dear lad? I've always been of the opinion that a good game of cards can stir the blood as well as any walk, but it is not always easy to find an opponent of the same mind. Esme," she called out, raising her voice slightly, "you are always good for a game, my dear, are you not? And where is that fellow you generally play with? I thought I saw him at the table."

Esme rose from where she had been chatting in a desultorily manner with Rosamunda Bolger and Lana Took. She was never adverse to a game with her husband's aunt, since the elderly hobbit was just expert enough to prove to be entertaining, and not quite enough to be a reliable winner. Glancing to the side of the room, where the gentlehobbit to whom reference had been made was starting to nod slightly over the post-meal brandy, she graciously summoned him, and accepted on behalf of the both of them. "But we cannot play doubles, my dear Auntie, unless you have a partner as well," she pointed out, with only the barest hint of condescendence.

"Good heavens, child, I know that," Delphinium gave a sharp sniff. "Actually, I do have a partner, but she doesn't happen to be here at the moment. Perhaps there is a kind soul who might stand in for her for the time being." Apparently casting her eye about the room appraisingly, she offered that position to Fatty first.

"My dearest lady," he bowed graciously, "I am afraid I must decline, being quite without the barest of skills in this venue, a bumbler and an incompetent, as it were. Perhaps one of the fair maidens approaching us might be persuaded to join you," he added, as the Took sisters, not to mention Daisy, could suddenly be found gliding in their direction.

"Oooh, Aunt Delphinium, isn't that the game you just taught me?" exclaimed Pearl Took with the least touch of girlish glee in her voice, a fact that caused her sisters to immediately struggle to choke back incredulous snickers. "I'd love to try it, if you've no one else for the moment."

"Very well, my dear," her aunt replied serenely, but with alacrity, giving no other bystander a chance to volunteer. Bracegirdle immediately perked up at this unexpected addition to their party. The Took daughter was as of yet unmarried, he had perceptively noticed, and the kindest of eyes could not help but admit that she was no longer a tween. Her parents must be getting rather desperate, although he did privately have to admit they concealed their disappointment on that score remarkably well. Her personage held no charm for him, he had to acknowledge, being rather on the tall and rangy side, and most distracting of all, female, but her family's position and wealth held enormous attraction for him. He had considered the matter quite unthinkable, really, but he could have sworn that she had cast a demure wink his way as she took her seat. Perhaps not so unthinkable, after all.

The game began, with a flurry from Pearl as she inexpertly tried to arrange the cards in her hand, and dropped one or two in the process. As the participants settled into the steady rhythm of murmuring for another card and laying out their tricks, a few more curious onlookers began to gather at a discreet distance. Fatty had returned, but this time accompanied by Merry and Pippin, all three pulling up chairs and settling down to watch the play. Esme darted a suspicious glance toward her son, since card play had never interested him in the slightest, but he blandly smiled back at her, and she was forced to return her attention to a particularly dramatic foray by her partner, who was not at all his normal conservative self this afternoon. Frodo and Sam had settled in to a nearby nook, at the side of the fire, and were ostensibly engaged in conversation with Folco Boffin as well as his intended, Iris Burrows, and her sister Pansy, but very few words were actually being exchanged, and they also appeared to find the play riveting.

The first couple of hands proved that the teams were fairly evenly matched, surprisingly so for Delphinium Brandybuck and her apprentice partner. But as the third hand was dealt, Pearl Took was doing her best to stifle her yawns. "I'm afraid that you aren't finding this the most stimulating of pastimes, Pearl," Esme observed a touch sharply, as she swept her hand up, and gave it a cool glance.

"Oh, forgive me, Aunt Esme, it must be the warm air, and the wonderful luncheon. Although I must confess that I would perhaps enjoy it a bit more if there were, oh, I don't know, something at stake to the whole thing," she replied ingenuously, using her cards as a fan for a quick moment.

Esme was on the point of making a slightly unsympathetic rejoinder when her partner unexpectedly chimed in. "An interesting point indeed, Miss Took. Was there anything in particular that you had in mind?"

"La, not for myself," Pearl replied lightly, beaming a smile upon Bracegirdle. "Aunt Delphinium, could you possibly think of anything that we might propose as a stake?"

"Well, there just might be something I could propose, if the gentlehobbit would care to raise the stakes just a trifle," Delphinium studied her cards coolly, and never glanced at the party so addressed. "I've always had a foolish private dream of retiring to a bit of land of my own, a small plot on which to have a cozy smial dug, not that you haven't been the model of hospitality, my dear," she hastily added, giving Esme a gracious nod. "But there is the dearest little farm, out East Farthing way. I do believe you are familiar with it, Bracegirdle, since your young valet, or so I've heard, is from those parts. A nice bit of farm, and one which should provide a useful bit of income in my dotage. I'm afraid I've quite set my heart upon it," she stated flatly, raising her head and giving Bracegirdle a challenging stare.

"What a very interesting fancy," Bracegirdle immediately returned her gaze, coldly narrowing his eyes, but Pearl's slightly stifled kittenish sigh at this point regained his interest nearly instantaneously. A slow trace of a smile then began to creep across his face, "Certainly I'd not miss that rather scrubby piece of land. I wouldn't mind in the least putting up my share of the ownership of it."

"This is certainly a new whim," Esme slapped the cards shut in her hand and gave her husband's aunt a suspicious glare. "I would never have conceived of the notion that you thought of yourself as a landlady, Aunt Delphinium."

"I should imagine not," Delphinium replied nonchalantly, rearranging her hand in a suddenly business-like manner and only the slightest of satisfied smirks. "But then you are so involved with the affairs of this great estate that keeping track of my latest whim would be completely impossible, my dear," she continued brightly, give her hand a last satisfied riff. "Enough of this idle chatter however, we shall bore the gentlehobbit entirely," she gave her adversaries a suddenly vivid smile. "Shall we, then?"

Card play resumed then in earnest, and it might have been noted that Pearl no longer dropped her cards, and there was no doubt but that Bracegirdle was not going to catch another glimpse of them. The lead of the Bracegirdle-Brandybuck partnership was narrowing, but still held against the Took-Brandybuck duo, as another pair of observers entered the room. Daisy immediately rose, from where she had been closely caught up in the action, and greeted them each with a warm hug, drawing them off a little to the side of the room, speaking softly to them.

It was Bramble and Rufus Grubb who had entered, both of whom had taken to Daisy Gamgee as to the daughter they had never had. She had spent many hours, when not at Pearl's side, listening in a bemused sort of way to Bramble's chatter, and that kindness had proven fortuitous indeed. For all her rustic manners, the good mistress Grubb had a keen eye for character, and a prodigious memory, and her knowledge of family affairs, regarding both gentlefolk and the more humble, could not be rivaled. She and her husband had spent a good deal of their lives being carelessly disregarded by their more illustrious relatives, and the time had come when some of that contingent were to discover that an uncouth manner might well hide an astute sense of justice, as well as the means to carry it out. So they settled in at Daisy's side, Bramble watching both the proceedings and the protagonists with especially sharp eyes and a look of grim satisfaction on her round motherly face.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

The game had been going on for very nearly an hour, with the advantage fluctuating sufficiently to retain the interest of all onlookers, when the tide began to turn inexorably toward the more experienced Brandybuck-Bracegirdle team. Although the elder Brandybuck steadily held her own, the inexperience of her Took partner was beginning to tell. A certain restlessness had begun to spread among the onlookers, and an odd predilection toward glancing repeatedly at the heavy wooden door that acted as entrance to the room had begun to manifest itself. Indeed, the last hand had brought Delphinium and Pearl quite to the edge of defeat when the door was suddenly flung open.

Through the doors strode, with wildly tossed locks and a snow-encrusted cloak, Estella Bolger, dark circles under her eyes and cheeks reddened and chapped, but a grim look of satisfaction upon her face. One of the housemaids, Aster, scurried into the room behind her with an excited expression on her face and a murmured "An' if it please, m'am, your cloak…"

"Ah, thank you, how very thoughtful of you," Estella gave the young lass, only a few years younger than herself, a quick grin and unfastened and handed her the dripping article. "A cup of tea, as hot as you can possibly make it, would be divine, if you wouldn't mind." Aster snatched up the cloak, so as not to leave puddles in the Mistress's best drawing room and, with a cheerful bob, ducked out of the room immediately.

Estella gave her hands a rapid rub, blowing on them slightly, and announced to the assembled hobbits staring at her, some more stupefied than others, "More than a trifle brisk out there, today. I do believe there's more snow on its way in. Positively frightful."

Her brother rose at her announcement, and gave her a questioning look. "But worth the bother, I should hope?" he asked, slightly guarded.

"Oh, indeed," she replied, giving him a sudden sunny smile. "Absolutely worth a bit of a chill."

Fatty beamed at her reply for just an instant before promptly draped himself on the armchair with his customary mask of mild boredom. "Not that there's much happening about here other than this astonishingly exhilarating game of cards."

"Oh," exclaimed Pearl, rising as if on cue. "I'm such an amateur, my dear Aunt Delphinium, that I'm afraid I've developed a stiffness in my wrist, no doubt from holding my cards too tightly. How very awkward of me. And we were so near the conclusion, were we not, Aunt Esme? Possibly Estella might be induced to take my place?"

Esme gave her a stern look, and was beginning to retort, "Well if you aren't feeling up to it, the proper thing to do would be to…" but Bracegirdle had already interceded.

Standing up and giving the eldest Took daughter a gallant bow, he exclaimed, "I, for one, have no difficulty at all with such a request. Miss Pearl may name anyone she wishes to take her place, and I am truly sorry that we have, however inadvertently, caused her any pain. Miss Estella is more than welcome to play with us, if Miss Brandybuck is willing to take her on as a partner, don't you agree, Mistress Brandybuck?"

There was not much Esme could say to that, but Delphinium gave Bracegirdle a flat look, and imperiously stated, "The stakes remain the same, do they not?"

Bracegirdle narrowed his eyes, seating himself again. With a tight, secret smile, he answered her, "Indeed they do, my dear lady. I would not think of it otherwise."

Estella had watched the proceedings attentively and without a word. Her participation being confirmed, however, she sat down in the seat Pearl had just vacated. With a quick swig of the tea that had just been placed at her elbow, and the immediate disappearance of a scone from the plate that had been placed there as well, the kitchen staff having a full awareness of the personal necessities of the Bolger offspring, she gave her partner a cheerful grin. "Hullo, Delphinium," she greeted her with marked familiarity as she rolled up her sleeves. "Three tricks down, are we? Then we best go to work."

And far from taking affront at her manner, Delphinium Brandybuck smiled fondly and simply murmured, "Indeed," and play resumed.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

The turn of the tide was beyond anyone's mistaking. Estella had shaken the snow from her brown curls, along with a stray twig or two, and had immediately put her powers of concentration to the problem at hand. Delphinium needed only the occasional murmured word to alert her to the possibilities the other two held in their hands, and to their great disappointment, she never fell into the traps that they had so carefully built up for her and her partner. Either the luck of the Bracegirdle-Brandybuck team had suddenly turned horrendously foul, or the superior cunning and card play of the other duo was beginning to show forth. At the end of a mere four more rounds, it was abundantly clear to all the spectators, not to mention the players, that luck had nothing at all to do with it.

In a scant twenty minutes, Esme Brandybuck and her partner were forced to concede, and Delphinium Brandybuck calmly swept up the decks, giving them a final shuffle preparatory to returning them to their case. "Now about that little wager we had on this game," she mentioned mildly, carefully tapping the edges of the decks against the table top. "I certainly hope you don't mind having the papers drawn up before you leave this weekend. It is quite fortunate that Saradoc has a solicitor for a cousin - oh, there he is, over by the window. The rather portly hobbit with the dark blue jacket, watching us even now, I do believe," and she gave the aforementioned hobbit a friendly little wave, that was immediately returned with great good-nature. There was no doubt that the outcome of this most interesting contest had been to the decided liking of all the audience members present.

"Of course, my dear Mistress Brandybuck, that would be entirely agreeable," Bracegirdle smoothly rose and politely inclined his head, "if the arrangement was capable of such a convenient means of transfer. Unfortunately, it is not quite so simple a matter."

"Oh, indeed?" Delphinium rose as well, and crossed her arms rather emphatically in front of her ample chest. "The property does belong to you, does it not? I would imagine that it would be your choice as well as to how it might be disposed of?"

"Ah, my charming lady, would that the affairs of business were so easily consummated," Bracegirdle gave a sly smile, and shook his head with fastidious regret. "Indeed, the property, as you say, does belong to me, but in the Bracegirdle family, property cannot be transferred without the consent of the most senior member of the family and that, alas, is not I."

"As well you knew when you entered into this wager," Delphinium stared deliberately at him. "That is the act of a dishonest hobbit, I would submit, and cause for dismissal from this house."

"And that, I believe, is up to the mistress of the house, and not to one of her elderly relatives, I should think," Bracegirdle replied coldly, and glanced toward his erstwhile partner for support.

But there was none there. Her relations with her husband's relatives had not always been the warmest, but one thing Esme Brandybuck had no patience for was dishonesty, and there was no denying that allowing the game and the wager to be played under false pretenses had been exactly that.

"I think it would be best, Mr. Bracegirdle, if you ended your visit at this time," she stated coolly and expressionlessly. "I would be quite happy to send a maid to assist you as you pack up. Your pony and carriage should be ready in half an hour. I shall expect you to be ready by then as well."

Bracegirdle's jaw dropped for the slightest of moments, before he collected himself together, and turned with a snarl. "Very well, I see that hospitality at Brandy Hall has some rather sharp perimeters," he snapped. "Nonetheless, the price of that land is well above any trifling game of cards, and for you to think otherwise was absolute folly."

"The price of that land was a factor you would have done well to consider prior to committing it, cousin Bracegirdle," came a deep female voice suddenly from the doorway. "I must agree, putting it forth based on the outcome of a game of cards was indeed ridiculousness, but apparently that is just exactly what you have done. And if so, then you must stand by that arrangement, however foolish."

Lobelia Sackville-Baggins stood in the doorway, wearing a truly amazing traveling suit of the deepest maroon, accented with numerous pleats and black velvet trim, and a large, terrifyingly stylish hat perched over one temple. With a flourish, she tugged off black leather gloves, a rarity even among hobbit gentry and, there can be no other word for it, sashayed into the room. All eyes, enthralled, were upon her, and several jaws dropped as well, but she gave the assembled party only a cool smile until her eyes happened to light on Fatty Bolger. He gave a polite bow at the acknowledgment, but not before it was apparent to anyone nearby that a quick amused understanding had passed between the both of them, and that her appearance here was no surprise to him.

It certainly was, however, to her cousin, who stood before her with the color rapidly draining from his face. With a murmured pardon to Esme Brandybuck, who was quite uncharacteristically stunned by the unexpected visitor, Lobelia imperially tilted her head toward Bracegirdle, indicating that she wished to speak to him a bit more privately. He moved woodenly toward her as she watched him approach, her expression suddenly grim, and then, turning her back to him, led him out to the hall as a master would a whipped cur.

When she whirled around in the hallway, the both of them now removed from the sight of those in the drawing room, her dark eyes were intense with undisguised loathing and he shrank back against the paneled wall, his hands clasped together anxiously. "Your conduct in this matter has been despicable, cousin," she hissed, "and I am not referring to the card wager."

Bracegirdle swallowed helplessly, and did not pretend that he did not know to what she was alluding. "I really do think this is unduly harsh," he muttered, unable to keep the whining tone from his voice. "Others are allowed their pleasures, why not I? Even if they are a bit, perhaps, unorthodox. No one think twice about that Baggins chap, who takes his gardener wherever he goes, and I doubt if he's much over a tween. And even…" He stopped at that point, his courage having failed him, but Lobelia had no illusions as to what he had nearly ventured to say.

"I assume that was to be a reference to myself and my private affairs." Her voice was low but absolutely frigid as she regarded him with disgust. "There appears to be a factor in each of these cases that you have failed to notice. I make no apologies for Baggins, but only the greatest of dolts could fail to see that his companion is with him of his own free will. As is mine. As is not the case with yours."

He lowered his eyes at that last remark, and she continued to gaze at him in cold silence for a moment more. "I believe the lady of the house has dismissed you," she continued at last. "You may consider that property no longer yours. And I will not allow you to sully the name of Bracegirdle again. Either treat your tenants with the respect that is due them, or you will no longer have them. You may leave. The lad will stay here with his new mistress."

Within the drawing room, there was the greatest buzz of delighted and impressed commentary on Bracegirdle's most singular exit. Both Estella and Fatty were beaming, and Estella's remarkable dash across Buckland and the rest of the East Farthing now lay revealed to the admiration of her peers. In the confusion, Delphinium Brandybuck discreetly joined the still obviously stunned Esme, wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulder. "There, my dear, he was really not the best of gentlehobbits, you know," she murmured. "Such a scoundrel, truly. I must say, however, I was quite impressed with Lobelia's entrance. She was always one for the dramatic entrance, even when we were lasses together, far longer ago than she cares to admit. No one could have pulled it off quite as well as she did, I think."

"Indeed," faltered Esme, still looking about the full room in a rather dazed manner. "I'm sure I have no idea where I shall put Mistress Sackville-Baggins up for the night, though."

Delphinium shook her head with a chuckle, and added, with a distinct twinkle in her eye. "I suspect that arrangements have already been made for her sleeping quarters. Bolgers, my dear, Bolgers. I don't know what on earth possessed you to think of them, but I am immensely glad you did. I expect they shall enliven the staid Brandybuck lineage considerably."

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

Sam eyed the drifting curtain of white through the stone-set window with dreamy satisfaction. He was in his favorite position after all, cheek nestled in the delectable hollow between Frodo's neck and shoulder, one arm across Frodo's chest, and both of Frodo's arms wrapped firmly around him. The room had been quite chilled when they had entered, although it was still mid-afternoon, but the combination of the fire now burning briskly in the small fireplace and, more importantly, their enthusiastic lovemaking, had soon taken the edge off of it. And now he lay at Frodo's side, drowsy but not sleepy, watching the soft fall of the snow out of doors and paying no heed to anything other than the beloved body under his, and the soft breath that stirred the curls near his ear. The post-luncheon incident had already begun to fade from his mind, for he had quite lost his amazement by this point regarding the predicaments gentlehobbits seemed to put themselves into, but he knew that Frodo had not gone to sleep as he normally did, and that he was still mulling it all over.

So it was with no surprise on his part that he could feel, as much as hear, Frodo give a slight sigh and murmur, "I suppose everything worked out for the best, Sam, don't you think?"

Sam raised his head up then, and propped himself up on one elbow. Frodo was watching him with a mild smile, but a slightly clouded expression. "Perhaps I shouldn't have interfered," he continued. "Somehow, I've always managed to complicate Merry's life, even when I don't mean to. And now maybe either Pippin or Esme can't stand Estella. And maybe Estella has had enough of Brandy Hall. And Merry will end up marrying a lass against either his will or hers, and end up in a miserable mess."

"That is a rare bit o'work for you to accomplish on just one visit," Sam remarked, the corner of his mouth quirked up in amusement. "There were quite a good lot of folk involved in all this, seems t'me. And I'm not all that sure as there's aught to blame yourself on, anyroad." With a gentle hand, he brushed back an errant dark curl, and bent over his partner, finding his mouth and quite successfully ceasing the conversation. And when Sam wished to put a stop to a discussion, he was quite thorough about it. Frodo, indeed, did not resist in the least, but returned the exchange with a satisfied groan, and a strong hand reaching up and entwining itself in golden curls. It wasn't until Sam's prolonged and comprehensive caress was completed, and the giver had raised himself back up again with a satisfied expression, that the recipient blinked, with a slightly dazed countenance, but determinedly returned to the prior subject of conversation.

"But really, Sam, Merry's mother does have a point, at times, you know."

A sharp and rather rude noise indicated Sam's opinion of Frodo's comment.

"No, she does," Frodo insisted with a frown. "I was a terrible influence on him, when I lived here, even if it usually was unintentional. It was very fortunate for Merry as well for myself, that Esme and Saradoc reached the end of their patience with me, and packed me off to Bilbo's. I never was entirely sure if he expected them to go along with his invitation, actually."

"I might o'been naught but a fauntling at the time, but that'd be somewhat hard to credit," Sam raised his eyebrow and gave Frodo a skeptical look. "Me gaffer'd have had plenty to say, if you'd been as bad as all that, I'm thinkin'."

"Ah, but you see, I wasn't, not with Bilbo. He was unpredictable, you know, especially at first, and there was always the chance that he'd take off with dwarves again, or toss me out to live with the bears. No really, I remember thinking there was an equal chance of either of those fates," Frodo insisted, as Sam chuckled at the thought. "He mellowed quite a good deal as time went by, you see, or at least I thought he had until the day he disappeared."

"Frodo, me dearie, you were where you were meant to be, and there's naught more to it than that. For how else could I have fallen in love with you, without me seein' you every day of me life? And for certain, how else would you ever have noticed me at all?" Sam stated with simple conviction, his smile deepening as he gazed tenderly at his companion.

"Oh, you're right, Sam, of course you always are, my dearest. Here I am, fretting about what cannot be helped, at least by me. Merry'll have to make his way in this world himself, but he has Pippin at his side, and quite possibly a future that will turn out to be far better than he might have thought. Perhaps I should be worrying about myself, instead, and how I'm going to keep pace with a sturdy young lad like yourself," his grin broadened as there was a certain indication pressing against his side that Sam was no longer inclined to rest.

"And about time you'd be noticin' that," Sam gave a mock growl, and bent suddenly over Frodo's exposed chest.

Frodo gave a sharp gasp that was very nearly a yowl at this unanticipated move, and then laughed in delight. "Oh, Sam, you do need to give me some warning when you do that!"

"Don't see as why," muttered Sam, continuing to push the blanket back with one hand and trail his kisses down the skin thus exposed.

"Because, oh, because," stammered out Frodo, one hand gripping the side of the bed and the other finding Sam's curls again, "because this isn't helping you now, is it?"

"Oh, you'd be surprised," Sam murmured with a quick grin, before returning his full attention to Frodo, who had rediscovered his stamina remarkably quickly at Sam's skillful advances. One thing he had learned, over their many years together, was to never interrupt Sam when he was determined, and let him do as he will. That forbearance always led to the most delectable of conclusions, and in no time, he felt himself swept away in a state of utmost bliss, once again.

There were not more than a few moments, after that, of distinctly labored breathing on the part of Frodo, and patient anticipation by Sam. That patience turned out to be rewarded, as it always was, when Frodo turned to him and rolled him over, pinning him underneath. "Oh, Sam, I love you so," he breathed, catching his mouth with his own in a fervent kiss. His hands were then on Sam, his body was heavy on his, and Sam sighed in sheer happiness. This was his love, and he would never have need of another. With the greatest grateful elation, he let his body respond to Frodo's inducements, and his heart sang with joy. He was loved and even though they were far from Bag End, he was home in Frodo's adoring embrace.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

Down the hall, two head lifted and froze for just a moment. "Definitely Frodo," Merry pronounced the verdict with decision. "It's that little cry at the end, you know."

Pippin nodded in agreement. "Besides, Sam isn't much for making noise outside of home, I've noticed. Much too polite a guest. But I remember hearing him, at Bag End…"

"Enough!" laughed Merry, pinning a giggling and very compliant Pippin below him again. "We'll embarrass them later. But for now, I haven't given quite all my birthday presents to you yet."

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

The small band was playing something mildly melancholy, as they generally did when they were half a score pints into the set. But their audience was paying them no heed, since the dancers had dwindled down to a determined few, and the rest of the guests were to be found in small clusters all about the great hall, either humming dreamily to themselves, or ignoring the entertainment altogether in favor of animated conversation and another glass of wine. But things had been much livelier earlier that evening, when the more seasoned couples present had taken to the dancing with an uncommon vigor.

Perhaps it was the unexpected defeat of one of her customary allies, not to mention her reassessment of his character, but Esme Brandybuck had lost the will to control this evening, and had, perhaps, gained something in return. For it had been noticed that she and Saradoc had found themselves in the thick of the dancing, and had even partaken of the slower numbers, definitely a rarity for the Brandybuck couple. Not that Paladin and Eglantine Took were sitting any of the numbers out, to be sure, and needless to mention, Odo and Rosamunda Bolger were quite obviously delighted with the entire entertainment and stepped through every quadrille and line with the greatest good nature. The younger set had not been forgotten, indeed, and Estella and Merry had led several dances, as well as conducting a quick private conversation that seemed to end to both parties' mutual satisfaction. Frodo, Sam, and Pippin gallantly spread themselves amongst the lasses present (even if, in the case of Pippin and Sam, that occasionally meant dancing with one's sister), Folco having been conceded to Iris Burrows. But there was no doubt at all that the honor of the most striking couple, and possibly the best dancers present as well, belonged to Fatty Bolger and Lobelia Sackville-Baggins. They led the slower dances with an untouchable stately pride, and lit into the fast paced ones with a talented verve and a matching wicked gleam in their eyes. However, after only half a dozen dances or so they quite vanished, not to be seen for the rest of the evening. An onlooker might have noticed, though, that Lobelia stopped for a quick word with Delphinium Brandybuck on her way out, a discussion that was remarkable for a surprising amount of very nearly girlish glee on the part of both parties, and she departed with arrangements made to meet again on the morrow.

But as the evening drew to a close, Merry sat on one of the more comfortable settles in a corner with his arm wrapped quite firmly around Pippin's shoulders as the younger hobbit snuggled happily, although sleepily, at his side. He looked about the great hall with a certain amount of bemusement. There were some more unusual couples among those who still glided about to the haunting lilt of the fiddle. Folco Boffin and Iris Burrows were still quite fastened together, as was only proper for a betrothed couple, but his parents were, most amazingly, in the same state. Esme's head rested on her husband's shoulder and her eyes were closed, as Saradoc had a firm arm around her and a faraway smile on his face. And somewhat to Merry's surprise, but most definitely to his satisfaction, Frodo and Sam were now dancing together as well, over to the side of the room, to be sure, but close in each others' arms and no pretense to be otherwise.

"Well, Merry," murmured Pippin drowsily, stifling a small yawn. "How do you feel, now that you're all grown up?"

Merry smiled tenderly at him, and bent over, lightly kissing him playfully on the nose. "Never felt better, dearest. Never better."


End file.
